


awake my soul

by Chelou_mecs_in_love, flying_elliska



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Amnesia, Angel Imane, Angel Lucas, Angels are Douchebags, Angst, Badass Lucas, Dark!Eliott, Demon Eliott, Demons Are Assholes, Drama, Earn Your Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Guardian Angel Lucas, Heaven vs Hell, Human Eliott, Hurt No Comfort, Long, Lost Love, Love Conquers All, M/M, Magic, Mind Control, Mission Failure, Multimedia, Plot Twists, Powered!Eliott, Redemption, Special Abilities, Supernatural Elements, Underworld descent trope, elu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-06-12 02:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19556587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chelou_mecs_in_love/pseuds/Chelou_mecs_in_love, https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_elliska/pseuds/flying_elliska
Summary: Before he met Eliott, Lucas used to know what his place in the universe was.After all, he used to be a soldier of Heaven.  A guardian angel, fierce and merciless, raised for one purpose only : to make sure that the human he was assigned to stayed on the right path. Some humans are born with a tendency towards evil, he was told. In Eliott’s case, with the power to bend other minds to his will with a simple glance of his eyes.But when he meets Eliott, everything changes. On Earth, he doesn’t find evil, but something entirely different. And he learns the beauty of a life lived in full colors.And of course, Heaven could never let that stand.So they took Eliott from him.Now there is nothing that will stop him from getting him back, even if he has to go to the deepest reaches of Hell to bring him back.But will he manage to find him before Hell gets to Eliott, and there is nothing left to save ?





	1. 0. Mission Orders

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone ! 
> 
> So this is a collaborative work by Elise ([chelou-mecs-in-love](https://chelou-mecs-in-love.tumblr.com/)) and Ellie ( [flying-elliska](http://flying-elliska.tumblr.com/)). Elise will be writing Lucas, Ellie will be writing Eliott, and we can't wait for you to read everything we have in store ! 
> 
> Our universe is somewhat inspired by Supernatural and Good Omens when it comes to the 'both angels and demons are assholes and our protagonists have to find their way in the middle' trope, but we'll put our own twist on it. 
> 
> A few warnings, though, this is probably going to get dark, biblical style. Nothing too graphic, but please take care of yourselves. There will be a happy ending, but they will have to fight for it. If you want drama on an epic scale, catharsis and big emotions, and of course, the power of love triumphing over evil, you definitely are in the right place and we hope you will enjoy <3

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182462951@N03/48204923777/in/dateposted-public/)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182462951@N03/48204924162/in/dateposted-public/)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182462951@N03/48204871846/in/dateposted-public/)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182462951@N03/48204871311/in/dateposted-public/)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182462951@N03/48204924092/in/dateposted-public/)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182462951@N03/48204871566/in/dateposted-public/)


	2. Prologue : Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliott misses the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys ! This is a short opening and we're frontloading the angst on this one. tw for descriptions of violence and a very bad headspace. As promised, it's going to be very fire and brimstone and high drama (but not always quite this dark, thankfully). 
> 
> The prologue is from Eliott's POV, and we will alternate, with Lucas's coming up for the first chapter. Hope you enjoy ! 
> 
> The header was made by Elise ([chelou-mecs-in-love](https://chelou-mecs-in-love.tumblr.com/)) and the prologue by Ellie ( [flying-elliska](http://flying-elliska.tumblr.com/)).

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182462951@N03/48219940501/in/dateposted-public/)

  
  


Eliott misses the stars. 

And a thousand other things that are too painful to think about. 

....

  
  


The stars are simple, the memory of them a refuge. When he closes his eyes he can see them, little pinpricks of light nestled in deep velvet blue. 

An endless sky, the feeling of a soft, fresh wind caressing his skin. The intimacy of late night, where the world stops, where time doesn’t really matter anymore. Everything so peaceful, so blessedly quiet, even the storms in his brain. A moment where he can just exist, and it’s enough. Stolen minutes, rumpled sheets. 

Warmth at his side, letting him know that everything is alright. Even breaths. A presence he doesn’t even need to be completely awake to recognize, because his heart is forever magnetized in that direction, like a compass. 

_No._

Whenever Eliott seeks to escape in his mind,  _ he _ is never far away. 

And that is a torture a thousand times worse than anything his captors can come up with. 

  
  


…

  
  


Stars. Cold diamonds in a timeless field, fixed, stern, unfeeling, and yet faithful. Guiding lost sailors through the storm, for those who know how to read them. A little piece of the vast universe, blinking back. Maybe something out there cares after all. 

He had a north star once. 

Rained down from the heavens, fire and ice and terrifying beauty, taking human form to cross Eliott’s path. Found him for such a brief amount of time, and yet redirected his entire life. Before him Eliott was lost, to even the possibility of home. Walking the earth like a grieving wanderer from birth, unfit, misfit, already half-gone. 

But his star learned to love being flesh, and Eliott embraced life. And because their love made heaven a lie, it could never stand. 

Now he is here, has been for so long. His star has forsaken him. 

  
  


And the sky is forever blind. 

…

Eliott looks down at his hands. Covered in ash and soot, nails cracked and bloody. The rock pick he must wield is starting to splinter in his hands, shards of dark wood lodging beneath his skin, making every movement twice as painful. 

The air in the mining tunnel around him is suffocatingly warm, heavy on his shoulders, unmoved by even a breath of wind. He’s heard that some circles are so cold they make your fingers freeze off after a few minutes. 

But there is no middle ground anywhere in Hell.

Every single cell in his body screams exhaustion. The gravel beneath his bare feet is agony. He looks at the measly pile of rocks he has liberated from the wall in front of him, and wants to cry. The basaltic stone is so hard it takes months to advance a few metres. It’s just so pointless. He wants to lean against the granite, to find some semblance of respite, to rest for even a minute. But he knows the overseer is never far away, with his demonic whip, a tongue of fire that cauterizes the skin as it flays, leaving him bloody but never so much that he cannot work. 

How long has he been down here? Without rest, without sleep, without food, without pause? His body’s needs are not the same anymore. He would have died a long time ago if they were. But he can still feel his stomach contract in hunger, trying to digest itself, and his throat so parched it’s sticking to itself, blocking his airways. 

After he’d been thrown down to Hell, at first, there’d been torture. Now he mostly remembers the numbness and shock at feeling how easily his body could break. But he still had hope back then, and time had been more distinct, as his tormentors shifted gears, tried to be creative. As he slowly lost his mind to grief, though, they’d started to lose interest. He wasn’t fun, he was catatonic, a pitiful broken thing. So now he was stranded here. And his mind was slowly devouring itself from the boredom, loneliness and constant pain. 

And the worst part? He knew he was starting to lose himself. He’d clung to his memories of Earth for so long, and now they were inflamed, tracks of regret and longing so strong they burned whenever he touched upon them, all the relief and the love drained out. 

But still. 

He knows. 

As long as he can recall  _ his _ name. 

They won’t have his soul. 

…

  
  


He hears a hiss behind him, and he jumps, conditioned to associate it with pain. So he picks up the rock pick again. Attacks the wall with whatever measly strength he can find to go on. 

And then, after only a few tries, he hits silver. A fine vein, in the dark stone, reflecting the red light of the torches behind and turning it pure for an instant, shining. Like starlight. 

And he breaks. 

_ Hope is always the worst torture.  _

The demon behind him raises his hand, and doesn’t stop until Eliott’s back is fuming raw and broken open, and he falls unconscious. 

….

  
  


He wakes in agony, his back a wall of fire. As he slowly struggles to open his eyes, he can see that he is not in the tunnels anymore, but in a wider cave, on ashy coarse sand that is the most comfortable thing he has touched in years. 

A bit further down from where he lies, there is a river. Its waters are dark, opaque, and troubled like smoke, agitated as if full of restless captive souls. Knowing this place, they probably are. 

A pair of heels enter his field of vision, white and blindingly immaculate, out of place. The newcomer crouches down as he raises his eyes. 

Her face is clearly demonic - eyes completely dark, a crown of little horns on her head, dark ridges piercing through her cheekbones, her lips purple like a corpse. But it is, also, the kindest face he has seen in ages. 

“You poor, damned thing,” she whispers. “You don’t belong in here, do you?“

Eliott tries to speak, but his voice doesn’t follow. He’s lost the ability to use it, down here for so, so long, alone in the dark with brutes who would only hurt him whenever he tried. 

“It’s okay,” she says, and she extends an oilskin pouch to him.

It’s probably a trap but Eliott is too far gone to care. He opens it, his fingers fumbling clumsily, and pours the contents in his mouth, not caring if it’s acid or blood. 

  
...

It’s water. Just water, aftertaste a little foul, laced with sulfur, but drinkable. He wants to cry from relief, and doesn’t stop until it’s drained. 

“Who are you?” He utters at her. 

“You can call me Lucille, darling. And...maybe we can be allies. I can help you.”

“Help me?”

“I can’t get you out of here. I don’t have that power. But I can ease your suffering.” 

Ah. Of course they wouldn’t give up. And they hadn’t tried kindness yet. 

“I’m not giving up my soul,” Eliott warbles. 

“I’m not asking you to. But...you know there is no way out, don’t you?”

Eliott closes his eyes. 

“I know you’re still waiting for him to rescue you. But he’s an angel, darling. A weapon of heaven, of divine will. He was never designed to care about such measly things as humans. And maybe, well. Maybe his eyes fell on you for a second, maybe he was led astray.” 

She’s closer now, and he can feel one of her fingers run along his cheek. 

  
  


“I can’t deny that humans can be seductive things. Maybe he got curious. But he was never made for love. And even if this particular angel’s wiring was a little bit faulty, the moment heaven got their hands back on him, they reset him to factory settings. He’s forgotten you by now. And here you are, suffering for nothing.”

“I can’t,” Eliott cries. “I can’t forget him.”

“I know, darling. You are a loyal creature, aren’t you? You must be hell’s saddest tragedy. And believe me, this is a place built on them. This isn’t fair. The world isn’t fair. “

Eliott slumps on himself. Why is she even here, to taunt him with things he already knows? 

“But I can help you. It doesn’t have to be like this, you know? Hell is awful, for sure, but it serves a purpose. We are the guardians of the damned. It is a job, and someone has to do it. If you accept your condition, you will be able to join us, climb the ranks. So that when you are finally turned into one of us, you will be nobody’s underling, but make your own path. You will never find happiness again, but you don’t have to suffer like this. You can find purpose, maybe even ease.”

Eliott shakes his head. 

“He won’t let me. When I think about him, I can’t....I can’t give up. I mean….I...“

She nods, sadly. 

“I know what you mean. As long as you pine for him, you will be in agony. You will never be able to accept your fate. And meanwhile, he will go on, for all eternity, overseeing the world, blissfully ignorant and serene. Free of the burden of what you shared. It isn’t fair. But I can help you.”

She extends a hand, helps him up, and lets him lean on her as they move towards the river. 

They stand on the shore, and Eliott can feel tendrils of cold smoke creep and curl around his ankles. 

Lucille gestures to the river. 

“This is Lethe, the river of Oblivion. Once, there was a time, when the Underworld realms were under other management, it bordered the fields of Elysium, and all the dead were obligated to drink from it so they could move on to other lives. Now, it’s just a forgotten relic, but it is still haunted by old power, still potent. If you bathe in it, you will not lose yourself completely, but you will be able to let go of what hurts you.”

Eliott looks down. The water is lapping forward, hungrily, as if it senses Eliott’s presence, leaving the grey dusty pebbles it covers wet and scintillating. 

He takes a step forward. The smell of the river fills his senses, heavy, mineral, and almost sweet, like opium fumes. 

Eliott looks at the wild currents in the water. If he moves forward, the suffering might stop, for a little while. But that means he will become one of them. Tormenting others, heartless, soulless. A creature of the pit, the refuse of creation. Something that Lucas would never love, never even want to touch or look at except with repulsion and hate. Something he would want to destroy in an instant, rid the world of. 

He closes his eyes and sees his angel, then. Ocean eyes full of mirth, little curl at the corner of his mouth, face alight with joy and wonder. A smile turning into laughter, the pure thrill of being responsible for it. 

He’d never believed in heaven or hell before meeting him. He’d never even believed in love. 

Love fades. But hell exists whether you believe in it or not. There is no escape. 

He’s tried to stay strong, he has. But he knows he is at the end of his rope. He’s going to give in, one way or another. 

So is it better he does so with Lucas’s memory in mind ? So he knows what he’s betraying ? 

Still that voice, like a sliver of silver in the dark, whispers. 

  
  


_ Maybe he hasn’t forgotten you. Maybe there’s another reason why he’s left you here for so long. Maybe he’s on his way.  _

  
  


Hope is the worst torture. 

  
  


Eliott takes a step forward. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> . 
> 
> Coming up next   
> Chapter 1 : Sacrifice


	3. Chapter 1 - Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas enters Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Hell !! Mwoehoahaha. 
> 
> Let's see how things are from Lucas' pov! 
> 
> Chapter and header by Elise ([chelou-mecs-in-love](https://chelou-mecs-in-love.tumblr.com/)), with the help of Ellie ( [flying-elliska](http://flying-elliska.tumblr.com/)).

Lucas has been walking through the streets of Paris for hours, looking for the gate. He’s starting to lose faith, doesn’t even know if he’s close to the gate or still far away from it. The only reason he’s still walking is because he knows Polaris is leading the way. Knows she can sense the darkness of Hell.

Polaris was, or technically still is, Eliott’s cat. When Eliott first introduced Lucas to Polaris he was reluctant. She had been a small, black kitten with a tiny white spot on her nose, nearly 6 months old at the time. She didn’t seem to really like him. Every time he’d come close to her, she would hiss at him, like she wanted to attack him. But the moment Eliott started to feel safe with Lucas, Polaris also seemed to ease up on him, and she would crawl up into his arms at night when Eliott was asleep, and just purr while Lucas stroked her back.

Lucas keeps looking at her, following her every move, afraid to even let her out of his sight for one second. Imane told him it was important to trust Polaris. It was the only way he could get to the gate. Lucas had scoffed a little at that, but one look at the cat and her intense eyes told him he did trust her, even though it sounded totally weird to trust a cat.

He can feel he’s getting close, the air around him changes, feels darker, heavier. It’s getting harder to keep walking, like something is pushing him back, doesn’t want him there. Like he can’t be here. Polaris stops walking and looks up at Lucas, golden/yellow eyes resting on him. He picks her up from the ground and cuddles her into his arms, giving himself some comfort in stroking her back and inhaling her scent, so close to Eliott's scent that he gets lost in thought for a little bit.

* * *

_December 2nd:_

_The moment he knew he was totally gone for Eliott was right after he was at his worst. He had been feeling down for a couple of days, and all Lucas could do was take care of him and reassure him that it would all be okay. Even when Eliott snapped at him, he knew it wasn’t personal. Knew it wasn’t directed at him, but at the pure helplessness he felt._

_When things started to get a little better, they had a good talk about it. Lucas didn’t want to admit to himself that he was falling hard for Eliott. He was an angel, after all. An angel assigned to make sure Eliott would give up his powers. But here they were. Six months in, and he was so totally gone for Eliott he couldn’t even deny it anymore._

_He laid all his cards out on the table, wanting to make sure Eliott knew how much he was risking here, by just staying on Earth and falling in love with a human. He knew it was a huge risk to talk to Eliott about it, about his fears, about his feelings, but he knew it was the right thing to do when Eliott gave him his blinding smile. That was the moment he knew for sure. There was no going back. He didn’t even want to go back._

* * *

He knew he had to let go of some memories before entering Hell, Imane had told him so before he started this whole thing. This was the first memory he let go off. He’d known it wouldn’t be strong enough to open the gate for real, but he wasn’t ready yet. Wasn’t ready to let go of that one memory he so desperately wanted to keep.

He’s getting closer and closer, almost able to see the gate now. He feels like he should turn around. He can’t be here. It’s unheard of for an angel to be this near the gates of Hell. But he has to be. Has to go through with this. He’s using all his strength to keep walking. He knows he can’t use his powers to get inside the gate, because it’s in the middle of a sidewalk and people could see him. Cars left and right, children playing on the street, screaming at each other in delight, having fun.

It’s surreal really. Lucas, an angel, on his way to enter Hell. If this wasn’t such a terrible situation, he would’ve laughed. He’s so close to the gate now, he can almost hear the lock clink against it, taste the copper of the bars in his mouth, feel the dirt on his fingers. But he’s not there yet. Something is slowing him down. There has to be some sort of magical force field around the gate, trying to keep him away.

He knew it would be hard, but he never thought it would be this hard. He has been standing close to the gate for over 30 minutes now, feeling the energy of the force field eating away at his strength. No memory he’s willing to let go off being strong enough to let him through. He doesn’t really want to let go of any of the memories he has made with Eliott. If that’s all he has left of him, he can’t bear to lose it. 

But he has to.

Lucas buries his nose in Polaris’ fur, stroking her back with his eyes closed, trying to calm his nerves a little bit. He can do this. He needs to do this.

For Eliott.

* * *

_February 15th:_

_“Eliott, what are you doing?” Lucas giggled, being dragged outside by Eliott. Eliott only looked back at him with a smile on his face. “You’ll see,” he said, always the mysterious one. Lucas couldn’t do anything else but to follow him. Let himself be dragged, really. Of course, he could easily slip out of Eliott's grip, him being an angel and all that, but he didn’t want to. He liked the way Eliott would take him places, always so happy to show Lucas new and exciting things._

_When they arrived, Eliott looked at Lucas with so much hope on his face that Lucas didn’t know what to do. He looked around, and back at Eliott again, furrowing his brows in confusion, waiting for Eliott to explain where they were._

_“This is my safe space. I only come here when I want to be alone or need some time to think and not be around people.” Eliott looked nervous, but Lucas squeezed his hand to reassure him. Whatever he wanted to say, Lucas was there to listen. “You’re the first person I’m bringing here. And you’re not even a person.” Eliott laughed at himself, at his choice of words and Lucas couldn’t help but huff out a breath, totally endeared by this amazing human being._

_“I want to show you something.” They started walking towards some sort of bridge or tunnel, Lucas wasn’t sure. Eliott stopped walking when they were underneath it. He pointed towards some of the artwork on the walls. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but every time I come here, I just want to paint something on the pillars. It helps me feel better, makes me clear my head.”_

_Lucas was stunned. There were dozens of paintings all around, going from dark drawings of sad raccoons to paintings of angels and light, even some lighting bolds thrown in to show the danger. It really emphasized the light and Lucas loved the contrast. Eliott had gone quiet besides him, even let go of his hand in order for Lucas to look around. When Lucas looked back, he could see the scared expression on Eliott’s face._

_“This is.. Wow. I don’t know what to say.” It was so much and yet it was everything he would expect from Eliott. He stepped closer and cupped Elliott's face between his hands, looking up at him. “Thank you for showing me.” He had never been more sincere in his life. He truly felt like Eliott was showing him a piece of his soul, and he was so touched. Didn’t really know what he should do with all the feelings arising in his chest. He knew he couldn’t put all these feelings into words, so he’d chosen the one option he could think off._

_He kissed Eliott._

* * *

Lucas tries to step forward again, but the invisible forcefield is still holding him back, stopping him from taking the last step to the gate. He feels the malevolent power radiating from it, almost hears the electric energy buzzing through the air. It feels like the air right before a big thunderstorm. Charged with energy and ready to explode. Lucas feels terrified. Is he really willing to go through with this? To give up his most beloved memories in order to save Eliott? To enter Hell?

He exhales slowly and decides he is.

He’s never been more sure off anything else in his life, knows he has no other option.

He’s still in the middle of the sidewalk, people passing him left and right, giving him strange looks. He doesn’t care, doesn’t even see them. All he’s focused on is his memories, allowing the right one to enter his mind. He knows which one he has to use. It’s the most important memory he has. The one he wants to let go off the least, but it’s the one he has to let go off.

For Eliott.

He can do this. He pulls Polaris closer to him and thinks back to that day.

That wonderful day at the end of March.

* * *

March 28th:

_Eliott had been painting for two hours now, banishing Lucas from the room. Saying he needed some space to completely focus on his work. Lucas was a little hurt, but he couldn’t help but feel proud of Eliott too. This was one of the few times Eliott asked for something he needed. He knew Eliott had painted some things underneath the bridge, but he always assumed those were spur of the moment paintings. Now Eliott was taking his time to work on his art. It was the first time Lucas knew Eliott was painting since he met him. He had thought about asking Eliott about all the paintings at La Petite Ceinture, but he couldn’t make himself. He was too afraid to find out the meaning behind them, too afraid to make things even more real. But there had been angels painted on the walls. Angels resembling Lucas._

_Lucas had been playing with Polaris for a little while, before going to check up on Eliott. Even though it had been only a couple of hours, Lucas still missed him. He just wanted to be in the same room, even if he wasn’t allowed to look at the painting. He knocked on the door, and he heard Eliott hum in confirmation._

_“Can I come in?” He had to know for sure, wanting to respect Eliott's boundaries and his wish to be alone. Another hum came from the other side of the door and Lucas took that as the answer he was looking for before opening the door, looking at Eliott from his spot in the doorway._

_Eliott was on the other side of the room, easel in front of him, so Lucas couldn’t see what he had been working on. His face was covered in paint, and Lucas thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Lucas smiled questioningly, wanting to be 100% sure it was okay for him to enter the room. Eliott smiled back and nudged his head to the side, indicating it was okay._

_Lucas let out a relieved sigh, and walked over to Eliott. Still a bit hesitant, he looked at Eliott for permission to look at the painting. Eliott squinted his eyes in amusement and took Lucas’s hand. “Come here, silly,” he said with a smile and pulled Lucas towards him, into his lap. He gave him a quick kiss, and told Lucas to look at the painting._

_It was a good thing angels didn’t really need to breathe, otherwise Lucas would’ve completely lost his ability to do just that._

_Eliott had painted him._

_But not him as an angel, him as a human. He recognized his eyes, his face, his hair. What took his breath away though, was the fact that he looked so normal. He was wearing a grey hoodie with “Romance” written on it, some sweatpants underneath. He was laying on the grass, head in Elliott's lap, looking up at him. His eyes were so blue, Lucas had no idea how Eliott captured the exact colors. He could still see the vulnerability in his own eyes. But also the way they sparkled, because he liked to tease Eliott about things. Like the way Polaris was on top of Elliott's head in the painting, but he just didn’t seem to care about that, he only had eyes for Lucas anyway._

_He felt a rush of affection. That even when Eliott thought about him as a human, he would still paint his eyes so colorful and full of life, capture the emotions Lucas would be feeling in that moment, if it had been real. Another thing that made Lucas’ heart swell up, was the fact that Eliott had painted himself in it too. Like they would still be together, if Lucas was human, like they would still know each other._

_He swallowed down the lump in his throat and looked up at Eliott. He could see the love pouring out of Eliott’s eyes. He didn’t understand why people would be afraid of those eyes, how they could think those beautiful eyes were only filled with this terrifying power. They were filled with so much more. Everything Eliott was feeling was written in them. Love, passion, comfort, but also fear, uncertainty and hope._

_Lucas felt seen for the first time. Like he was something more than just an angel, just a tool for Heaven to use. Like he could be himself and that was okay. Like he was loved for everything he was. All of his weird parts too. All of the things he learned to love because of Eliott. Like he was worth so much more than just being a pawn in this fight towards justice. Or what Heaven told him was justice. Because looking at Eliott made him feel like Heaven was wrong. Why couldn’t they just let humans with special abilities live their lives? Why did they have to intervene? Why did th-_

* * *

Lucas is pulled out of his memories by Polaris trying to get out of Lucas’ arms. The moment he feels her move, is the moment he forgets what he‘s thinking about. Forgets which memory he’s losing at that exact moment. Lucas lets Polaris go and she’s gone without even looking back, running away as if she’s burned by Hell itself, which seems accurate, considering how close they are to the gate.

Lucas sighs.

Now he’s really alone. He takes a step forward, totally ready to be held back by the force again, but to his surprise he’s still walking, nothing holding him back this time. He still feels the electric energy surrounding the gate coursing through him, but he knows it can’t hurt him. Knows Imane found the right spell to get him through.

He keeps walking until he’s stopped by a fence surrounding the gate. It looks like a normal fence, one you can find in every park, but the moment he steps through it, he feels like he already entered Hell. All of a sudden, he sees a big, black hole, almost a portal, swallowing the ground that is supposed to be there. Everything around it is black: flowers, grass, even the soil on the ground looks blacker than normal soil. Lucas sees the energy radiating from the hole, electricity flaring up in blue and yellow strings. He feels the power of it bumping at the spell surrounding him, trying to get him away, trying to break through the spell. It’s scary.

He takes a deep breath and forces all the power he has inside of him towards walking up to the edge of the hole. Imane put the spell on him, creating some sort of shield that hides his true nature, but also make it look like he was a demon. Even with the shield in place, it still takes a lot of his angelic power to take the last few steps. To really go through with it, let himself fall into the hole and enter Hell.

It’s not just because of the power surrounding the portal, it’s also because it’s against everything he’s ever been taught, against everything he thought was right. He’s still an angel after all. He’s not supposed to be here. He’s not supposed to want to go to Hell. And he certainly isn’t supposed to be able to go through the force field, let alone open the gate. Least of all, be able to enter Hell. But here he is, ready to do just that. Enter Hell.

For Eliott.

He takes a deep breath, thinking about everything he is and everything he has to let go off once he enters Hell. He won’t be the perfect angel anymore, like he’s trained to be. He won’t even be able to get back to Heaven, he knows this. And yet he steps forward, lets himself fall into the hole, the hole leading him right into Hell.

* * *

Hell.

The first thing he notices is how hot it is. He can feel the heat wrap around his body, seeping into his skin, making him sweat within seconds. Which shouldn’t be possible, because angels don’t sweat.

The second thing he notices is the horrible smell. It makes him want to throw up. He’s not sure where it’s coming from, not even sure he wants to know, but he has to do something about it before he passes out. He rips away a part of his shirt to put in front of his mouth and nose, blocking the horrible smell just a little. At least he’s not breathing it in directly now

It takes some time for his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him. It’s not like it’s pitch black, but it’s such a difference with the bright light on Earth that he has to blink a couple of times, getting his eyes to focus on his surroundings. Once they do, it’s like the rest of his senses come back to him as well.

He can hear voices everywhere, and although they are far away, it still feels like they’re too close. He feels how dry, but scorching hot the air around him is. He can almost taste the dust that’s rising up from the ground, making his mouth dry. He sees the heat radiating off the road he’s on, air distorted by it, making it seem like he landed in a nightmare.

He’s not used to it, the heat, all his senses being on edge, and he just wants to leave. Want to get out of this hot, sandy, smelly place.

Heaven had been, well not cold, but not warm either. It had been the perfect temperature for the angel, based on what his angelic body needed at the time. It was different for every angel, even different depending on the day he was having. The temperature on earth had been manageable as well, since his perfect temperature in Heaven had been close to the one on earth.

But this, this is something else.

He looks around, trying to see where he landed. It looks like a secluded part of Hell, a backroad of sorts. There’s no one else here, and he’s glad about it. At least now he’s got some time to adjust, to look around a little bit, without being attacked right away.

All he sees is a road ahead of him, surroundings still too dark to see anything else. He can’t see where it will lead him, but it looks like it’s the only option for now.

He starts to walk, feels himself getting exhausted after just two steps. The ground in front of him is sandy, hot and full of holes and little puddles. He doesn’t know how dangerous they are, but just to be sure, he tries to not step into them.

It’s a good thing he’s so focused on the ground, otherwise he wouldn’t have seen the big, black, bubbling swamp right in front of him. He stops walking and just stares at it for a minute. The smell coming from it is horrendous. It’s what he’s been smelling ever since he got here and now that he’s so close to the source, it’s almost unbearable.

The sand surrounding the swamp is so hot, he can almost feel it burning through his shoes. He looks down to see if that’s the case and fortunately it isn’t. He rips another part of his shirt and ties it over the other one, making sure he really can’t smell a thing.

At first he tries to walk around the swamp, but it keeps growing, no matter what way he walks. After a while he’s tired and he starts to look for other ways. First he tries to make the mud inside the swamp split up with his powers, but he’s still so weak that it doesn’t work. He looks around, finds a large branch and sticks it into the swamp. It immediately dissolves, like the swamp is full of toxic acid. So no walking through it then.

Lucas sighs and looks around him again.

He spots a boat somewhere underneath the burned bushes surrounding the swamp. He walks up to it and tries to pull it out. To his surprise it’s easy to get it out. He inspects the boat, corroded from all the time in Hell but still pretty much intact. He can’t find any leaks or other things that could complicate the use of the boat. Some magical power has to be looking out for him, because he also finds some oars on the bottom of the boat. He sighs in relief. Looks like he’s gonna make it across the swamp after all.

He drags the boat across the shore, trying to find a good spot to enter the swamp. Once he finds it, he lets the boat into the water and steps into it.

At first all is well, he’s making some progress. He’s not going as fast as he likes, but he’s still moving. After a while, could be minutes, could be hours, he sees some shapes in front of him. At first he thinks he’s hallucinating, since they seem so far away and they aren’t even transparent. But the closer he gets, the more distinct they get. At first Lucas can see through them, but the closer he gets, the more real they look. Very real.

He can see them now. They’re horrifying. Pale, corpse like creatures, trying to reach for him. Arms, or really, bones, stretching out in front of them, trying to make the boat keel. He’s trying to fight them off with the oar, but it’s not working. There are too many. He can’t fight them off.

He remembers Imane giving him some objects in a magical bag so he could carry them with him. She told him to keep them close at all times and that he would know when to use them and which one to pick. He thinks about the items she gave him and the one thing that comes to mind immediately is the torch.

He gets the torch out of the bag and uses the little power he has left to light it. At least this way he will be able to see a little bit more of his surroundings.

The creatures closest to the torch pull back immediately and Lucas has to suppress a smile. Looks like he found their weakness. He swings the torch around, trying to create the same effect on the other creatures who are still close to the boat. It looks like it’s working, since they start to back away too.

After minutes, which could’ve easily been hours, Lucas makes it across the swamp. He’s so relieved he almost jumps out of the boat. But he’s not there yet. Has to go a few more meters.

That’s when he feels the boat getting pulled back. He almost falls down and he turns around, torch still in his hand and looks at dozens of creatures surrounding him. He’s not sure what to do. He can’t really move the boat anymore, since they’re holding on to it like it’s their lifeline. The only thing he can do is look for ways to defeat them.

He tries out his magic, tries to shoot of some fire at them, but it doesn’t work. It’s like lighting the torch burned out the last of his magic. The next thing he does is just trying to whack the creatures with the torch. Trying to get them to let go of the boat, hitting their claws, hands or whatever they are. They just need to let go of the boat, that’s the most important thing.

He’s smacking them with the oar and the torch now and it seems to work. The creatures are backing off a little. At least far enough for him to reach the other side of the swamp. He’s so close he can see the shore now. All he needs to do is take the step from inside the boat to outside.

He walks to the front of the boat, torch still in his hand, swinging it around to keep the creatures away. He makes it to the shore in one piece, but the moment he stops walking he can feel one of the creatures pulling him back by his leg, not letting him go in the slightest.

Lucas turns around and swings the torch at it. It’s not working. The fire is almost out and it’s like the creature is immune to it. He just starts to pound the creature’s head with it, trying his best to get it to let him go. The creature lashes on to the torch, and by doing so lets go of his leg. It’s trying to get the torch out of Lucas’ grip.

And it’s working.

He’s losing control over it and even though he’s still fighting, he’s also ready to just let the torch go. If that’s what it takes for him to survive, he’s willing to do it.

He takes a deep breath, mustering up all his strength and lets go, pushing the creature back into the swamp while doing so. He starts to run, not looking back, not caring about the creature anymore. He just wants to get away from it. Wants to get out of there.

He only stops running once he’s in a more open space, away from the darkness, from the horrible smell, those horrible creatures.

Finally able to see where he is, he looks around. It looks like the inside of a cave, but also wide and open. Demons swarming the place left and right, just doing their own thing, going up all the different paths leading up to different places.

The first thing he does is looking for a place to hide. He finds it behind some sort of house. It looks like it’s made out of dry, red sand and it shouldn’t be possible for sand to be the foundation of a house. But it is. The sand is hot to his touch when he leans against it to look past the house. He feels the wall trying to suck his hand in, and he pulls away immediately.

Lucas looks around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. There are demons everywhere, little clouds of dust rising from below their feet. It’s like Lucas landed in the central hall of Hel, considering how busy it is.

On his left, Lucas sees a road leading up to some sort of chamber. He doesn’t know what’s happening inside, but when the door opens and a demon comes out, he can see some creatures getting tortured, screaming their lungs out, faces red with blood. Lucas wants to curl up into himself, because he knows he won’t be able to rescue them or even protect them from it happening again.

On his right, he sees the path he just stumbled out off. He swallows around the lump in his throat, thinks about what he just went through and takes another look around, tries to decide if it’s safe for him to move. When he feels like he calmed down a little and no one is paying him any attention, he slowly stands up and starts walking. He keeps close to the ground, hiding behind all sorts of buildings and rocks. Trying to stay off the radar.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Someone grabs his arm and turns him around forcefully. So much for not being noticed, Lucas thinks.

He looks around and sees that everyone’s looking at him, he can almost feel the fire behind every look he receives. They are all curious, but also apprehensive, closing in on him, challenging him, examining him.

“I asked you who you are and what you’re doing here.” The demon who’s holding him seems to be annoyed. Like she doesn’t really care, but has an obligation to ask him.

“It doesn’t matter who I am, but I am here to challenge the King of Hell, and according to rule 1925, paragraph 2, subsection 2.29, the King of Hell must always accept a challenge for the throne.”

The demon looks him up and down, smiles a little in amusement. It’s like she’s making sure he’s not completely insane. She’s still holding his wrist, but he knows he needs to make her feel like she’s in control here, if he even wants to have a chance to defeat the King, so he doesn’t even try to get out of the grip.

“All right pretty boy, let’s see what you can do.” He knows she’s mocking him, challenging him to see how far he’s willing to go. He doesn’t care. He will make it work. For Eliott.

“First thing first. You have to tell me your name so we can prepare your collar for when you don’t make it and end up as our slave.” She’s laughing now, looking around the group of demons who’re still watching them. The others laugh a little, not really that interested in her jokes, still more interested in Lucas.

“Lucas,” is all he’s saying. Not willing to give them a last name or even more information about him. His name is already too much, now that he’s thinking about it.

“Okay. Lucas.” He can almost hear the air quotes around his name. She’s clearly still mocking him, trying to get a rise out of him.

He stands his ground though, not willing to take the bite. He has to get to the King. Imane didn’t really say why, but she’s told him how important it is for him to get to the throne. He figures the best way to do that is to fight the King and claim the throne for himself.

“Let’s get this show on the road then, shall we.” The demon starts dragging him across the cave, making him stumble a bit, until he catches himself. Her hand is still clasping his wrist, dragging him along with her.

They follow the dusty road right through an opening that leads them to another cave, and yet another. They walk for a long, long time, and he can feel the energy of the demons around him wearing at his protective barriers. When they finally emerge out of the darkness, he feels incredibly drained.

They find themselves in an open field, grey and flat, and towering over them, on the top of a rocky outcropping, a castle. It cuts a sinister image against the fiery sky, towers reaching out like claws, walls half crumbled, majestic but awful.

As they follow the road and get closer, Lucas can see a brief flash of light, electric blue, emanate from within the castle - gone in a second. Then again, like captive lightning.

The closer he gets, the more nervous he becomes. But he keeps his face neutral, can’t let the demons know how he really feels, how terrified he is to be here, to fight. He’s only ever fought in the simulator in Heaven, preparing him for the possibility of a fight. He was one of the program’s top students, he spent so many hours training. And yet this is the first time he is actually walking into a fight, and all his efforts feel in vain.

As they approach the outcropping the road starts climbing, spiraling upwards. There’s slippery rock under his feet now, and he has to be careful not to fall. As they climb higher and higher, the side of the road becomes a threatening cliff’s edge, making a misstep potentially fatal. And he really doesn’t think any of the demons would hold him back if he fell. They might even push him if given the opportunity. He steels himself. He cannot let a stupid mistake stop him now he’s so close.

Finally they emerge onto a wide, empty courtyard on top of the hill. On the other side, the palace’s gates are looming. Lucas is pushed forward, past the massive doors of charred wood, into a corridor bustling with demons. He doesn’t get to see much of the palace before they enter the throne room.

The place is beautiful in a ruined sort of way, reminding Lucas of a twisted cathedral - high ceilings, half destroyed, elegant arches, painted walls made unrecognizable by soot and years of misuse and carelessness. The room is framed by high windows, the stained glass broken, only shatters remaining, letting a foul wind in.

And where the altar would stand, a throne - a grotesque thing made of metal and rock and what looks like human skulls and bones, looming over everything else.

There is a man sitting on it. From all the creatures in the room, his appearance is the least demonic. He would look like a beautiful man in his late twenties, with dark hair, broad shoulders and an arrogant face, if it were not for the overpowering malevolent energy Lucas can feel radiating off him. He wears a leather jacket and a simple shirt underneath, eerily white. On his head rests a crown of iron, set with a single dark red jewel, glistening like blood.

He turns his eyes towards Lucas, and he feels his stomach turn upside down.

This is the King of Hell. This is the man he has come to defeat. Lucas feels so small all of a sudden.

The demon still holding his wrist pushes him forwards, making him fall to the ground. Alongside him every demon is also on the ground, kneeling in front of their King.

“All hail king Charles, ruler of Hell. May he rule forever.”

They all stand up again and the demon right next to him starts to speak.

“This creature here wants to battle you for the throne. Thinks he’s got a chance at defeating you.”

Everyone around him starts laughing, like it’s the biggest joke of the century, like it’s the best thing they’ve heard all day. Charles looks amused as well, lips turned up into a devilish smile.

“Oh really,” Charles shrugs, like it doesn’t really matter to him. After eyeing Lucas for a couple of minutes, it looks like he’s come to a decision. 

“Well, why not. It’s not like I have anything better to do anyway. Hell’s a bit boring lately, so I’d say: give it your best go.”

Lucas swallows, even more nervous than before. It’s really happening now. He’s really going to battle the King of Hell.

Charles looks next to him and sighs. He pulls at a chain, dragging something towards him that Lucas can’t see yet. He sees a figure coming out of the dark, pulled into the light by the force Charles but on the chains. It looks like the creature isn’t even able to stand up.

“Eliott, prepare the arena for a fight. We will get you when it’s ready.”

The last words are directed towards Lucas, but he’s not listening anymore. His only focus is on the name the King had said.

Eliott.

Eliott is here.

Right next to the king.

He knew Eliott would be here, in Hell, it’s the only reason Lucas is doing all of this. But he didn’t expect to find him this soon. Didn’t expect him to be the creature right next to the King, right next to the man he’s going to fight. Didn’t expect him to look like that.

Lucas looks at the man he loves so much. And he immediately wishes he hadn’t. The way he’s holding himself up is nothing like Lucas is used to. He looks so worn down and beaten up. Bruises all across his face, varying from blue to brown to purple. Slashes across his cheek, indicating that he’s been in a couple of fights. And that’s something Lucas never thought he would even have to think about. His sweet Eliott in a fight. If there’s anyone who would never fight someone, at least not intentionally, who won’t even hurt a fly, it’s Eliott.

Everything about the way Eliott is holding himself up screams defeat, like he doesn’t want to live anymore and is just sitting there to get through the day, to not make things worse. The clothes around him seem to big, like he hasn’t eaten anything in centuries. And when he looks up Lucas almost takes a step back. His eyes look hollow, like he doesn’t care about anything anymore. Behind that, there’s also still a fire burning, but powered by hatred and anger, two emotions Lucas never thought he would see in his eyes. Yet he doesn’t seem to care that there’s someone challenging Charles. He just shrugs and stands up, apparently to prepare the arena for a fight.

The only reason Lucas is still standing is because two demons are holding him up. If they wouldn’t be doing that, Lucas would’ve fallen to the ground. He wants to walk up to Eliott, take him into his arms, shake him, make him recognize Lucas. But he can’t do anything.

He lets himself be dragged away, he doesn’t care where he’s going. All he sees in his mind is Eliott's empty stare. A stare without love, without the comfort he’s grown so used to, not even a look of recognition in those eyes. He can’t believe Eliott doesn’t seem to know who he is anymore. He promised. Promised to remember him, to never forget him. It had only been two weeks. What could’ve happened in those two weeks?

Without realizing it, Lucas is thrown into a cell. The demons who brought him there are now his guards, standing in front of the cell. Lucas doesn’t care. He has to win the fight, that’s all he cares about. Has to help Eliott, make sure he gets him away from Charles, out of his grip, away from the spell he’s clearly under.

He knows Hell isn’t enough to break Eliott.

He believes in that like he’s never believed in anything before, not even Heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Next chapter from Eliott’s pov:   
> Chapter 2 - Power


	4. Chapter 2 - Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously in Awake my soul:  
> Lucas, an angel, went into Hell to rescue his beloved Eliott. To do so he had to sacrifice some of his most precious memories of their time together. Once arrived, he challenged Charles, the King of Hell, to a duel for the throne. But he was shocked to discover Eliott is now Charles's magically enslaved servant and doesn't even seem to remember him...if he wins, will there be anything left for him to rescue of the man he loves? 
> 
> In this chapter :  
> The fight for the throne, from Eliott's POV. Who is this arrogant stranger who thinks he can overthrow a centuries old rule ? Why does he fight with a dignity alien to Hell, and why does he seem to wake up emotions in Eliott he didn't even think himself capable of anymore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are afraid of insects, you might want to avoid one of the fights in the middle (see end notes for details)  
> tw: violence, semi-graphic descriptions of wounds/corpses, general Hellish vibe, quasi-suicidal ideation (Eliott is not in a fun mindscape) 
> 
> Chapter written by Ellie ( [flying-elliska](http://flying-elliska.tumblr.com/)) and header by Elise ([chelou-mecs-in-love](https://chelou-mecs-in-love.tumblr.com/)).

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182462951@N03/48219940501/in/dateposted-public/)

The road is a dead end. Like everything else in Hell.

At his heels, Eliott can hear Charles’ minions chittering. In front of him, a steep wall of red stone, too stiff to climb. This part of the underworld is a maze of sharp rocks and tunnels, constantly changing. He could have lost his pursuers, with a little luck. Made it to the wastelands. Maybe to the Titans’ graveyard where gigantic old bones have laid undisturbed for centuries. Their captive spirits are hungry and restless, but more welcoming than the horrors he’s left behind. 

But there’s no luck to be had down here. 

So he dismounts and lets his steed shrink and skitter away - there's no use letting the minions get their slimy hands on the closest thing he has to an ally down there. 

And he turns around.

Of course His fucking Majesty, King of the Steaming Shitpile, wouldn't get his precious ass down there. Is he lazy or a coward? Probably both. Or maybe he gets off on seeing others scramble to please him. But the result is always the same - he never does his own dirty work.

And he's sent him his worst nasties, seems like. 

Ingrid is facing him in her beetle green armor, eyes glowing unnaturally green, mouth dripping with yellow acid. There's only a few insects running through her straw mane, but Eliott has seen her summon her swarm in a matter of minutes. Next to her, Nicolas looks less ostentatious in his black robes, but that smug grin of his is as creepy as always. The King's two most faithful Knights of Hell, here to bring Eliott back, willing or not. 

And behind them, a squadron of elite demon soldiers, armed to the teeth, eyes red and horns carved all over with tallies for their numerous kills. 

Eliott curses. 

He really should have left the palace much, much earlier.

He could take the demons soldiers or Ingrid or Nicolas in single combat, for sure. But all of them - he doesn't stand a chance. His powers don't work on several people at once - Lucille once said they could, maybe, with the right training. But he's never been interested in that kind of power. He just wanted to be strong enough for everyone to leave him the fuck alone. 

Even that was enough to make Charles feel threatened, though, apparently. Because this is fucking overkill.

“Are you gonna make a move?” Ingrid throws at him. “Cause that would really make my day. My babies are hungry. And you can still use your freaky mind control powers missing a few limbs right? So the King can't complain.” 

“And I always have new tricks to test,” Nicolas adds. 

Eliott shivers. He’s seen them at work. Ingrid’s probably the most directly dangerous, with her flock of carnivorous locusts and venomous spiders, so he would have to incapacitate her first. But her glowing eyes look like she’s hopped up on some sort of boosting juice, or maybe something to make her immune against Eliott’s powers. So he isn’t even guaranteed success. And meanwhile he would leave himself vulnerable to Nicolas’ creepy illusions. He might seem deceptively harmless, but Eliott’s seen creatures ripping themselves apart to escape the visions he’s planted in their minds. He always knows how to find your worst fears and turn them against you and if he doesn’t - well nobody likes the phantom sensation of burning alive. 

And then there’s the horde behind them, foaming at the mouth for violence. They would cut him up to little pieces while he was busy with the others; and he wouldn’t even die. 

It’s not worth it. He’s tired of pain. He’s tired of everything, he’s tired of Charles’ smug face and all his court of simpering morons. He’s tired of this place, and how endless and inescapable it feels. Even if he ever were to reach the surface again, he knows Hell has burrowed its way into his heart too far to ever let go of him. It’s the rage, the hate, the constant longing for the end of all things. He knows at some point he must have been something else since they call him the human. 

He can’t help but think, once again, as they put him in chains and drag him back to the palace, that there must be something seriously wrong with him - he can’t even be a proper demon. He knows there’s something missing. It torments him up at night - vague dreams of blue light, of coolness, of calm that never go anywhere and wake him up at night 

It’s insupportable. He hates it more than anything else here, and he knows it’s his personal torture for whatever he did on Earth. 

They bring him to the throne room - but not before they’ve taken away his leather coat, his weapons, most of his clothes, leaving him in tattered rags that show his scars. They make him drink a bitter draught to weaken his powers, that makes him slow and bumbling. Charles is warded to hell and back, but he never leaves anything to chance. Eliott is supposed to come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. So that anyone sees that refusing an offer from the throne is not something you do. Nobody really knows the true extent of Charles’ powers; he almost never uses them. He could be really weak, for all they know, or the most powerful demon in Hell. But he is smart, and crafty, knows everyone’s secrets and weaknesses while never letting his come to the light. He’s laid his tendrils in every single part of this place, traps and safeguards and landmines, and ruled for centuries. 

And the devil you know, in these parts, is always worse than the one you don’t, because he’s got reasons to hate you. 

So of course when they're done, one of his minions gets real close, he sees a flash of movement and feels then a sharp stabbing pain in his lower left side. He doesn't give them the satisfaction of making any noise. But he knows he's going to feel it for weeks. He’s familiar with pain, but there’s never quite getting used to feeling your insides tear and rub against each other. It’s enough to throw him off, remind him of his own fragility, makes him want to curl up and hide instead of taking a stand. It makes him small, which is what they want. 

Then, and only then, they take him to see the King. 

He is sitting on that grotesque pile of bones and old metal they call a throne, smug as always. If Eliott were a little less drugged and out of his mind with pain, he’d laugh. It must cost Charles so much energy to keep his face smooth and uncorrupted in a place like this. It’s ridiculous. Like trying to keep immaculate while wading through a garbage heap. 

“Well well, look at what the cat dragged in. Thinking of running away, were you?”

Eliott tries to respond, but his words come out slurred, and the audience jeers at him. So he does the next best thing he can to show his disdain. He spits on Charles’ shiny boots. 

Eliott can see the façade fall for a fraction of a second, his grin spasmodic before he schools himself into calm control again. Charles craves respect; Eliott wouldn’t be surprised if his power is fed by others believing in him. This is why he hates Eliott; because he doesn’t give a shit. 

“You know, it would be very entertaining to watch you lick these clean, but sadly, I have other things to attend to.” He waves his hand around lazily and the spit vanishes. He shakes his head sadly. “Ah, you know, I’ve tried with you. Offered you a place in my halls, in my guard, and I am met with only ingratitude. But then again, maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, on Earth, you weren’t a team player either, were you?” 

He marks a pause for dramatic effect and Eliott feels a pang of rage and despair course through his muddied brain. Charles does this all the time, allude to his knowledge of Eliott’s past. It’s a trap, maybe, a lure, or maybe a way to remind Eliott he knows him better than he does himself. It feels so, so wrong, like Charles can peek into parts of his brain he’s locked himself away from. 

“No, you were a pariah, an outcast, not worth loving, a pathetic and lonely thing. Well, in here, we make do with what we have, don’t we.” He waves his hands again and they bring forward a bigger collar and a chain, engraved with magical symbols. “So I’ll find ways for you to serve, whether you want it or not. You should thank me, really. We’re going to scrub the cowardice right out of you.” 

He feels Charles’ words hurt a part of himself he’s locked away, and he wants to yell in rage. But he doesn’t. There is no point. 

It would be so much easier, he thinks, as he is made to kneel once again on the rough stone before the throne, if he could just beg for forgiveness to make Charles feel powerful, simply take his place in his ranks again, carry out his orders. Get one of the best rooms in the palace, freedom from pain and endless toil, whatever meager scraps of pleasure that can be had in Hell. But he just can’t. He doesn’t have it in him. He’d love to see the world burn, and yet, he can’t bring himself to be the one to inflict suffering, to pick up the knife in turn. 

The metal locks shut around his neck with a clang, and as the spell takes hold, it’s like being submerged in ice. He feels himself go numb, whatever willpower he still had left seeping away. 

“Well, be a good dog and get up now.” 

Eliott feels his limbs obey without his own consent. He’s a puppet now, Charles’ voice the strings. 

They’re making things easier for him, in a way, yes. It’s tempting, to give in, to just obey. 

But he won’t. He will hold on to hate, if it’s the only thing he has. To the knowledge this is wrong. 

One day, he will break free, he promises himself. And he will reach the place he was trying to reach when they caught up to him. 

Somewhere in the furthest, wildest reaches of hell, where even the strongest demons are too afraid to set foot, beyond the wastelands Eliott has come to know so well, there is a place he longs to reach. A graveyard. Where old gods and monsters and unspeakable beasts, lay trapped under the ground, biding their time. They care little for Charles’ power plays and petty vanities. Eliott’s heard their whispers, and more and more he longs to free them. They’ve had the world stolen from them and they know. It cannot go on like this. They’re the only ones that make sense anymore. 

They just want to eat the world alive. 

……...

He is kept mostly at the throne, at Charles' feet. Sometimes Charles asks him to do things he doesn't want to do, and he has no choice but to do them. Sunless days go by in loathsome monotony. Everything is grey, formless. Whenever he feels himself go too numb for his liking, he clings to hate as a way to remain awake. 

That's when the stranger arrives. 

Eliott hears the commotion first, demons clamoring and laughing and then an exchange. 

"This creature wants to battle you for the throne." 

Oh fuck, another one. Eliott is tired - of setting traps, of cleaning away mangled remains. Charles is nonchalant but Eliott knows how much he likes his blood sport. Another chance to show off his might. 

The king calls on Eliott and he crawls out from beneath the throne, chains burning into his skin as he shuffles forward. 

The creature who came to challenge Charles is nothing like the others. He holds himself with a focused, dignified calm that is alien to Hell. His face is beautiful, which makes Eliott distrust him instantly. And his eyes - true blue, like the sky he was starting to forget - seek Eliott's out right away. It's like being submerged in icy water. What if this newcomer knows Eliott from his previous life ?

It doesn't matter. Soon he will just be yet another splatter on the sands of the arena. 

…

When everything is ready, the challenge can begin.

The arena is right outside the palace, within a crumbling structure that resembles antique fighting grounds. Charles is sitting on yet another throne, made of crimson velvet like a Roman emperor, waiting to signal life and death. As if this whole thing exists just to amuse him and his cohorts instead of any sort of real challenge. 

The outsider will not fight the King right away, of course. First he has to face his best fighters. 

Alexandre is the first to step up. Eliott is surprised to see him fight; he's made himself scarce lately. Eliott knows he spent last night drinking himself into oblivion. Of all the Knights of Hell, he is the least malicious. He just does what he has to, to earn a less miserable life. But Charles has been on his case lately, egging him on to show more enthusiasm. He probably threatened him into coming. 

Hungover as he might be, he is still a formidable sight in his intricate armor, sword glinting sharp and unforgiving. He is one of the best warriors here, and if the newcomer is lucky he will die under his sword, clean and quick - because if he doesn't, he has much worse to look forward to. 

The challenger stands upright, with his measly shield and sword. Eliott can see he is afraid but his face shines with pure determination. It's been ages since Eliott has seen pure _anything_. He doesn't think it's going to last long, really, and a faint pity stirs his heart. How did such a creature find his way to the heart of Hell ? 

The outsider raises his sword in salute, bows. Alex, slightly taken aback, does the same. Then he charges. 

The newcomer is nimble, agile. He steps aside, feigns to attack and doesn’t, whirls around Alex like a dancer. But it doesn’t help him for long, as Alex’s broadsword shatters his shield. 

Then the newcomer stands, and they duel. They are both so fast that their swords become a blur, a flurry of attacks and parries. It is obvious that the stranger has had training. 

Eliott is a little bit surprised, and wonders where he learned to fight like that. It isn’t like anything he’s ever seen before. Alex feels the same, Eliott can tell - that he almost feels appreciative, a little smile at the corner of his mouth. This combat, at least, is not boring. 

Alex lets his style become more flamboyant, and the challenger in response becomes even faster. If Eliott didn't despise fighting, he would call it beautiful. Charles is in a very different mood however, brows pushed together in a displeased frown. He likes his spectacle bloody and cruel, not artful. 

The newcomer's skills, though, are no match for Alex's centuries of experience. He might be able to strike a few hits, but then Alex wounds his fighting arm, and it seems to go downhill from there.

The fight doesn't wind down immediately, however. The outsider shows remarkable stamina, even though he stumbles several times. Alex is clearly puzzled by his refusal to go down. 

Then Charles starts heckling Alex - calling him a joke for not being able to put down a lame duck, insulting his manhood and fighting skills, telling him he is a waste of space and booze and the King's guard deserves better entertainment than this. 

Eliott's always known this one thing: Charles's pride will be his downfall.

Alex throws down his weapons on the ground of the arena, in a cloud of dust. 

"You fought well," he says to his opponent, who lowers his sword and takes a step back. "But it's not me you should be fighting." 

And then he leaves, without once looking back. 

Charles gulps. Eliott is willing to bet he is dying to shout at Alex and threaten him with all sorts of torments unless he comes back and finishes the fight - but that would appear desperate, and he can't have that, can he? So he puts on a nonchalant sneer and says something about _"that one not going far, either"_ and preparing some more chains. Eliott wouldn't mind the company, really, but Alex will probably put a lot more effort into hiding if he really doesn't want to be found. Eliott hopes he manages to evade capture. The temper tantrum Charles would make… now that would truly be epic. 

Charles turns his nasty grin towards the newcomer, who is just standing there, panting lightly but head held high. 

"Well, what's one more or less appetizer when the party is just getting started ?" 

He waves, and out of the shadows Ingrid appears, in full insect wraith regalia. 

Her eyes are shining radioactive green and so is her dress, made of a thousand torn-off beetle wings, sprawling onto the ground and trembling slightly as if still alive and trying to fight free. Her wings are iridescent, her crown made of spider silk and torn off eyes. She is beautiful in an utterly repulsive way. 

She smiles and Eliott sees the mandibules reaching out of her mouth like those of a spider, and she makes a ghastly noise. All of a sudden the air around her starts to buzz and thicken. It becomes dark and splits apart. Out of nowhere, the first swarm materializes and immediately rushes towards the newcomer, obscuring his silhouette. 

Eliott can distinguish the spiky bodies of hungry locusts, and he dreads to think of what is going to be left of their prey when they’re done – he’s seen it before, and it’s usually bloody and raw and nowhere near the original shape of whatever creature Ingrid’s wrath fell down on. 

But then something happens at the center of the insect cloud, and the flying pattern of the swarm starts to be affected, as if turbulence was whirling them around so fast that they are torn apart, and soon enough locusts are projected every which way, including at the crowd. Eliott ducks but the demons around him are not so lucky, receiving insect bodies on their faces and arms like a disgusting rain. 

Ingrid tries to regain control over them but in vain. There is a tornado now at the center of the room, a centrifugal force that her powers are too weak to rescue her creatures from. So they are smashed against the walls, torn apart or turned into dust and in the end, the newcomer stands, his arms raised to control the winds he has called. 

Well, that was unexpected. So the outsider can control the winds. That’s an interesting power to have – but very immaterial. 

Ingrid is not so easily cowed, and she snarls in rage. In an instant, the ground below the newcomer starts to disintegrate and he lets out a yelp of pain. He suddenly is standing on top of a mound of carnivorous ants, and as he tries to raise his arms he sinks even deeper. It seems as if he cannot marshal the same power again. That is an even worse way to die than through locusts, Eliott thinks. The ants are so tiny, so persistent. Before long he is totally submerged, and Eliott expects to see nothing more than a bloodied skeleton be left. 

But then he sees a glow start to emanate from the center of the insect pile, and before he knows it, he feels a wave of heat – shocking even within Hell – and the ants are incinerated in waves, some bursting into flames and some just purely disintegrating in the white hot glow. And finally there is only a silhouette left, incandescent, until the outsider cools down and his body becomes visible again, standing in the middle of a crater, his face covered in bite marks but mostly intact. 

Now Ingrid is shaken, as she felt the pain of her creatures dying, and part of her hair is singed. 

Eliott wonders. Elemental powers are quite rare among demons. And those who do have these powers often show corrupted forms of them – the winds they call come with plagues, the fire is toxic, the water poisoned, the fire out of control and malicious. But the outsider seems, if exhausted by using them, very much in control still. 

And this time, the stranger comes at Ingrid, raising his sword. 

As he reaches her, however, his sword doesn’t find anything as she disintegrates in a burst of spiders – the small, fast, and uncatchable kind. And Eliott knows, incredibly poisonous as well. He feels some sympathy, for the first time in ages, as he sees several latch on to a patch of bare skin on the outsider's’ ankle. Soon enough, his face contorts in pain, but he bears it, and closes his eyes, as if in prayer, and walks back until he stands in the crater. All the spiders rush into the hole, preparing for a feast. The challenger stands, silent, stoic, letting himself be bitten, until all the spiders are on him. And then, he kneels and puts his hands on the ground, and Eliott sees it seeping forth – water, from the parched cursed soil of Hell. If he didn’t know better he would call it a miracle. The spiders are caught in the tide, scrabbling, as he submerges himself and shakes them off, but the water freezes to ice before they can escape – and soon all of them are caught. 

Eliott sees the newcomer's eyes flutter under his closed eyelids, and he mutters one word of power. In a snap all the ice, spiders included, shatters in a thousand little particles of powdery matter. 

The challenger stands. He has won this fight. Eliott can see a single fly flee to the exit. Ingrid is still alive, but too weak to continue, so she runs, to recover her powers and fight another day. 

The newcomer is in bad shape, though. He’s covered in scratches, has lost blood, and his veins are probably coursing with venom. All this would kill a human in a heartbeat, but this one is obviously not human – the pain must be atrocious, still. Eliott muses about what sort of prodigious pride or lust for power must motivate him. It’d better be strong enough to let him keep his wits sharp, because he will need them for what’s to come. 

The next fighter arrives, without fanfare, his face almost friendly, but Eliott knows he is the textbook case of appearances being deceptive. He is the most dangerous of Charles’ fighters, and he almost always wins without even lifting a finger. 

Truth be told, nobody likes to witness him fighting - his powers tend to spill out onto the crowd. Nicolas reaches into his opponent’s worst fears and uses those fears against them to win. Illusions of agony, shame, utter betrayal, phobias coming to life.

Eliott braces himself for a riot of angry demons around him - most of them fear being reminded of their own insignificance - but what hits him is a wave of darkness that blinds him. And then the most abject, horrible feeling of loneliness. Emptiness and pain he knows, but being reminded of what he misses? There is something there, something that was torn from him, a gaping hole in the middle of his chest, a need so cutting and so ancient it sends him to his knees and seems to turn the whole world around him to dust. He feels the drive to cut it out, no matter what. He cannot go on living a second more like this, and his hands start to try and look around for a sharp object, something to just - 

A flash of light, and he is returned to lucidity, the weight of the horrible knowledge of loss still echoing in him. He looks around him to see demons looking up, confused, from where they lie on the ground in heaps, and to the middle of the arena. 

The outsider still stands. 

His sword is plunged deep into Nicolas’ chest, where the heart should be. 

The stranger’s eyes are full of tears, but he smiles, as he says: 

“My worst fear has already come true. You have no power over me.” 

And, in some unholy miracle he can see the sword is doing something to Nicholas, his face turning grey, his veins blackening, and in the split second before he crumbles into ash, his eyes turn to Eliott, full of hate and envy. 

And then he is gone. 

The audience is stunned. Nobody remembers the last time anyone beat Nicolas, and nobody even knew it was possible for such a powerful demon to die. 

The king stands. He is not smiling anymore. He did not expect to have to fight. Eliott feels a sort of rueful spite that could almost pass for hope. The newcomer has shown himself to be a skilled fighter, powerful magician and most importantly, someone with very little to lose.

Maybe, just maybe, someone will finally wipe that arrogant grin from Charles’ face. If he can see that, then Eliott can consider himself satisfied. 

Eliott straightens, and so does every demon around him, their attention keenly fixed on the arena. This could be the fight of an era, or it could be nothing.

Charles knows it very well. But he can’t show himself to be rattled.

As he stands there, Eliott can feel the King's strength gather through the link that the spell imposes on him and suddenly he gasps, as he finds his power drained away from him. He looks at other mind slaves around the room, and they look like they are struggling just like him.

Eliott feels a wave of anger and loathing more powerful than anything he has ever felt before invade him. That piece of shit can’t even fight with his own power. He pushes back with every ounce of strength he has, and somehow he finds it easier than he usually finds resisting Charles’ will. Maybe because he is juggling so many minds at once, drawing power from all his slaves...

Charles turns his glance towards Eliott briefly in anger and Eliott realizes that yes...he feels it. And it makes a difference. Suddenly he gets an idea, and stops resisting.

He can’t win the stranger’s fight for him. But if he needs just a little help at a crucial moment...he folds the idea away in his mind for later.

As Charles gathers his power he visibly becomes taller, more imposing, shadows gathering behind him, his eyes glowing as red as the jewel in his crown. Voices whisper, the lights in the room dim, and the ground begins to shake. This is the King of Hell at full power.

It’s all fucking games of light and shadow. 

The challenger stands. He is weakened from his previous fights, but his face shines with determination. He doesn’t look as scared as he should be. At the beginning of the challenge Eliott would have said that maybe it was foolishness, but now he isn’t sure.

Charles, ever so self-assured, strikes first. He clasps his hands together and power grows between them, and when he releases it, it shatters the ground in a neat crack that goes all the way to his opponent, who avoids it in the nick of time. Instead the fault line continues and only stops when it hits the nearest demon, who shatters from within. It is the most disgusting thing Eliott has ever seen, the scrap of writhing flesh that remains, and he has seen unimaginable horrors. Suddenly, he wants to close his eyes. For some obscure reason, he doesn’t want this to happen to the newcomer. He tells himself it’s because he wishes someone would throw Charles down. But there is something strange that happens within him when he looks at those blue eyes, those harmonious traits, that inner fire, something disquieting and not as unpleasant as it should be. As if Eliott knows, deep within, that he deserves better.

Charles keeps doing the same thing for a while. It becomes a game of cat and mouse. The audience starts scrambling to avoid his strikes, too, and instead it’s the tribunes of the arena that start crumbling. The newcomer keeps stepping aside at just the last moment – but how long can he run? How long will his stamina last? And he doesn’t seem to have any new tricks left. He is tired, out of breath. 

The arena looks more and more like a field of ruins. The stranger ducks, hides behind the bits of rock. He throws some in Charles’ path but they are often not enough to contain his power for long. He seems to be testing the limits of his power; there is a calculating air in his eyes. But this is an expensive strategy. Charles’ hits keep getting closer and closer, until they hit the edge of his sword. Even the metal is destroyed and falls in sharp shards on the sand, and the stranger drops it before the fracturing power attacks his arms as well. 

Now he is defenseless. What does he have planned? Charles seems barely ruffled, cruel and flamboyant like he has energy to waste, laughing at his opponent’s discomfort. 

He continues to run. Eliott is starting to abandon hope, distraught he ever allowed himself to entertain it in the first place. 

And then he notices. 

There is a pattern starting to emerge on the ground, out of the cracks that Charles has made while throwing his bolts of power. And it looks like a spider web, cracks linked to each other, running towards the same center. 

The outsider's running, now, looks purposeful. But why? What is the point? Charles' power is the kind that immediately dissipates. 

The deepest crack almost looks like a groove, and the next time Charles casts his power, it calls to the power in an already established line, captive.  
  
Of course. Power looks for the way of least resistance, and that’s always the more travelled road. Especially the power of somebody like Charles. The quake scatters along the web, and sizzles to nothing. Clever. 

Brutes can’t abide clever. 

“What a neat little trick.” Charles sneers. “You think you can outsmart me? In my own home? _I am Hell._ ” He roars, and sends a shockwave directly through the air. The pillars and demons closest to him explode. Eliott feels the energy draining from his chest, knowing he’s only spared because Charles still needs his power. In the middle of the ring, the outsider is barely holding himself together, edges going blurry, and Eliott can see a shining protective aura around him starting to tear itself to shreds. 

Charles is standing, face straining with effort, a terrible grin on his face. He thinks he is winning and by the look of it, he is. 

Around the stranger, the little debris of earth and water and ash coalesce to the middle of the ring, where the pressure is the strongest. A stream of dust moving freely, weirdly beautiful, like the Milky Way in miniature. The outsider’s eyes are closed and he is whispering something, as if pleading with the universe to help him out somehow. 

The cloud of dust in the middle thickens. Eliott feels the pressure on his skin, so strong he knows that if he were still human he would have been ground to nothingness already. He has no clue how the stranger still survives - he must have come with external protections, by the look of it, but they are wearing thin, as his nose and eyes have started bleeding. He is making something with his powers - earth powers, by the look of it, which is almost impossible, but it looks as if he’s running out of time. Charles is smiling like a predator closing on his prey. 

Eliott says a prayer to he has no clue what, and yanks his power back. 

Charles stumbles back, and the stranger takes a breath. 

Suddenly there is a zap of light in the middle of the dust cloud, and then everything stops. The pressure on Eliott’s face disappears suddenly. Charles is looking at his hands, dumbstruck. The newcomer is on the ground. Eliott cranes his head, as do the surviving demons still left in the arena. 

The stranger gets up, still stumbling. In his hand, a shining shard of something that looks very much like diamond, forged in the insane pressure of Charles’ raised inferno. 

Charles laughs, and calls the pressure again. But the stranger is ready, and throws his blade. Because it was made by Charles’ power, but turned against him by a stronger intent, it is not affected by it, and moves unhindered, straight for Charles’ heart. 

It pierces flesh clean through. Charles vacillates, as if about to fall. Demons may be dead, but the heart is still the seat of power, and striking it often destroys them or at least their power. It destroyed Nicolas because his power was all about manipulating people, coming from that rotten heart of his. But, as it becomes clear when Charles pulls the shard out and only black blood and nothingness shows, he got rid of his heart a long time ago. He turns a nasty smile towards the stranger. 

But the stranger opens his hand and the blade flies back to him, knowing its true master. He looks taller now, his power restored by him by this feat of mastery. And as he raises his hand again, he aims for Charles’ head. 

Charles is scared now. 

The blade flies, but it is not Charles that receives it. It’s one of his mind slaves, a pitiful thing barely recognizable as human shaped anymore, that Charles has pulled to him in order to protect himself. 

He sees a wave of shock on the stranger’s face, something very much like regret and compassion. As other slaves and even free demons scramble to stand in front of Charles and protect the old regime, Eliott sees him hesitate. 

Then Eliott feels himself pulled, too. And he might have been able to destabilize Charles for a second, but this direct command he cannot refuse. 

His feet drag him forward and he can read horror on the stranger’s face now. As if he cared for Eliott in particular. 

Strange. 

Behind the newcomer’s face, he sees a wave grow, of inexplicably pure water, crystalline and drawn from the depths of the Earth that know of no good or evil. 

Eliott looks at Charles and his pitiful mass of sacrificial demons, at the sharp drop behind them all. He knows Charles won’t be strong enough to resist now. His power is all about appearances, and having to heap your minions in front of you to survive is the most despicable show of weakness and cowardice he’s ever seen. 

The other side of the arena is too far for Eliott to escape, though. If the wave comes, it will push him off the cliff with the rest.

He looks at the stranger and whispers “Do it.”. A few millennia as shattered bones down the palace hill sounds enviable compared to all of this anyway. What does it matter who is king in Hell when Hell will always be Hell and Eliott bound to it? 

The wave rises, terrifying. And what the water comes, it is almost a relief. 

But something grabs at his neck sharply, yanking him forward, keeping him from falling as the water rushes around him on all sides. Then he sees it - the diamond blade, lodged through one of the rings in the chain fastened to his neck, jabbed into the earth and kept there out of sheer willpower. 

Eliott feels a wave of nausea invade him. He doesn’t want to trade one master for another. He’d rather jump off the cliff himself. 

But as the water drains away, Charles and his minions nowhere in sight, the arena left mostly empty save for the stranger still standing and demons behind him now cowering in awe before their new King, Eliott’s collar shatters and falls at his feet. 

He feels a rush of sensation, as if he was brutally brought back to life.

What is the stranger playing at? Wasn’t Eliott bound to the throne first and foremost? Why has he freed Eliott when he could just have taken over the spell that controls him?

From below the cliff Charles has been thrown off of, the crown of Hell, moved by its own power linked to the millenia old rules of the realm, rises from the dust towards the stranger. That is the real marker of a power transition.

He grabs it and crowns himself. Then the jewel in the middle of it, which was blood red when the crown was on Charles's head and is now a dull black, lights up in shining blue. 

The stranger's voice rings loud and clear. 

"My name is Lucas. I am your new King."

As per the custom, everybody kneels. Eliott doesn't care, however. He doesn't kneel. He is tired of kneeling for any man. He is tired of court politics. If this King is going to want him out of the way too, maybe it should happen now. But the King doesn't say anything. 

Eliott can hear everyone chattering, trembling, wondering. What sort of monarch is this going to be? Already he has shown himself to be resilient, crafty, able to outmaneuver Charles, who had reigned for centuries. He is powerful, determined. In his fight with Alex he showed something very much like honor. Which is something the most devious could exploit. But they could have a surprise in that too, seen as how he tricked Charles into forging him his weapon. Maybe the new king could be petitioned, placated. But maybe he has a hidden sadistic side, too. Maybe he is just a mind as cold as ice, who will rule Hell with an iron grip. 

The first thing he has to do is pick his second in command, his most trusted advisor who speaks to Hell for him and has his back. This was Nicolas to Charles. Eliott wouldn't be surprised if the stranger - Lucas - chose Alex. They seemed to gain respect for each other during the fight. Or maybe Lucas has come with his own people in tow, waiting for the right moment to come forward. 

Lucas is given a silver circlet set with a smaller jewel, now shining in the same blue as the crown. Nicolas never wore it, but it has a ceremonial use, meant to officially designate the second in command. 

Eliott is about to try and disappear quietly when he hears his name. 

"Eliott? Will you be my second?" 

Fucking hell. 

The stranger's voice is tentative, almost soft. That's something he should really change, otherwise he won't last long. 

How the fuck does he know Eliott's name? 

Eliott doesn't turn around.

"No."

He doesn't want power in Hell. He never has. And he doesn't want to be yet another man's dog. No matter whether the metal is on his head or around his neck. 

"Eliott, please." 

"No." Eliott says again. If this fool thinks that begging is a good first act as king…

"Fight me." He says, then. 

Eliott turns around.

"In a binding duel?" 

"If I win, you work for me. If you win...what would be your price?"

Eliott thinks about it real hard. But it doesn't matter. If Lucas loses, he won't keep his crown for long. Nobody wants a loser for a king.

It's a shame, though. It was a beautiful fight. 

But not even Charles was stupid enough to face Eliott fully powered, without any help or protection.

"Alright. I accept your offer. If I win, just leave me the fuck alone."

"Then as the rules of Hell dictate, we are now bound to this combat and the rules laid out."

Lucas bows his now crowned head in Eliott's direction. Eliott does the same. Little rules and politeness. Doesn't make any difference.

Suddenly he feels a furious urge to beat this new King. Make him pay for his arrogance, for being tied to Eliott's past, for giving him hope, for this masquerade of setting Eliott free only to plan to put him in chains again if he wins. Eliott wants to earn the crown and then refuse it, trampling it in the dust, leaving Hell in abject chaos. Leave demons to indulge in their worst urges until nothing is left but a pile of carrion and finally, finally, silence. 

That is the only hope Eliott wants to believe in. 

Eliott plunges his eyes into that of the stranger. Ignores the adamant blue, focuses on the pupil, dilated in stress, like a measly human. Feels pressure build at the base of his neck where the spine meets shoulder blades, a warmth that carries up and beneath his eyes. Then he feels a field of energy that spreads around him, and he directs it towards the stranger. 

He makes it carry one simple command. 

Just. Shut. Down. 

He's no sadist like Charles, doesn't want to see him dance although he could. He just wants to see him go down like a puppet with cut strings. 

He feels the stranger's shield under his wave of power, alien, crystalline, a cold sensation that sends shivers along his spine. It blunts his intention, but doesn't stop it. He feels his power take root. As always, it is a visceral process, a takeover of nerve and blood and muscle that still makes Eliott uncomfortable. Everytime he uses it he understands why he made himself be sent to Hell when he was on Earth. If he used this power on another human…

But this man has plans to take control over him; there is only cold practicality in doing it before the stranger can. 

Eliott uses his special voice, low and commanding.

"Drop your weapon." 

Eliott can see the stranger's hand tremble, feels his struggle, knows that every cell in his body wants to obey. 

But he doesn't.

"I said, drop your weapon." 

The stranger doesn't drop his blade. Instead he raises it. Eliott feels a shiver of doubt, of fear. He renews his focus, trying to simply get the other to shut down, picturing his throat closing, his heart closing. Offering him a mercy, really, as any true death in Hell would be. 

He sees darkness around him, and suddenly, unbidden, a bright core, like a star, pulsating. Coming from Lucas's heart. 

It shocks him down to his bones, and the ensuing wave of energy sends him flying backwards. 

_What is he? What was that? What the fucking hell is he?_

The stranger, Lucas, looks down at Eliott, but there is no victory on his face, only something very much like compassion and concern. Weirdly the anger feels drained from Eliott's veins, replaced by...relief? 

Lucas extends a hand to Eliott.

"I need your help. I don't believe Hell has to be constant misery. Maybe it can be a place of atonement, of learning. Of healing."

That's the most ridiculous thing Eliott has ever heard. 

But this - this creature cares about Eliott. The way he looked at Eliott when he arrived, how he kept him from tumbling down the cliff with the rest, how he knew his name, and now this outstretched hand. 

He can't help but feel like this is his past coming home to roost. Maybe this is the punishment, in the form of something uncomfortably like decency. 

He gets a strange flashback. He is standing somewhere dark, but up there, there is a corner of dark blue sky, and a scattering of stars. He knows he is waiting for someone. Before him, there is a strange sort of tunnel, dark but not scary. And suddenly he feels overwhelmingly happy. The sentiment is grotesque, firing through synapses that had forgotten how to work, leaving him feel empty.

He remembers the loneliness called on by Nicolas' powers. 

He remembers the shining core in the spot where the stranger's heart should have been. 

And he remembers the stars.

And he makes a choice. 

This man is a fool, no doubt about it. Eliott will have to bring him around to the truth before disappointment warps him into a truly horrific monster. But if it's the end of all things he's courting, who says he has to do it alone? 

He stands up on his own, scrabbling. Then and only then, he takes the offered hand, and shakes it. Lucas's skin is calloused but soft, warm. Not scorching, just warm, and his handshake is firm without being a declaration of war or posturing. 

Is he really this honourable figure he pretends to be? Or is it a trap? All sorts of emotions whirl through Eliott, more than he's felt in a century. Anger, confusion, curiosity, loathing, envy, contempt, reluctant admiration. The thrill of a worthy challenge, finally. 

And hope. Always hope, stinking fucking cursed hope, hooking its claws in his flesh, dragging him on.

But at least, as he sees the same hope reflected in the eyes of the new King of Hell, at least this time he won't be the only one to sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucas fights Ingrid, who has the power to control swarms of dangerous insects.  
> from "He waves, and out of the shadows, Ingrid appears…" to "The next fighter arrives, without fanfare." Lucas defeats her using elemental powers (wind, fire and water/ice.) He doesn't kill her, however, as she flies away under the shape of a single fly. 
> 
> Next time : Chapter 3 - Strategy (Lucas POV)


	5. Chapter 3 - Strategy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas is taking a tour of Hell and meets some new creatures!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took way longer than expected, but here you are! Another part from Lucas' perspective. A bit of fun, a bit of angst, a bit of pain, all wrapped up in one chapter.
> 
> Enjoy it 😁
> 
> Chapter by Elise ([chelou-mecs-in-love](https://chelou-mecs-in-love.tumblr.com/)), with the help of Ellie ( [flying-elliska](http://flying-elliska.tumblr.com/)).

Lucas doesn’t know what to do with the heat. He can’t escape it. Can’t even find one cold spot in Hell. He’s losing his mind. The heat keeps pressing on him, making him feel drowsy, like he’ll probably pass out any minute now. Even the occasional breeze blowing in his face doesn’t help. It only makes things worse, makes him feel the pressure of the heat even more.

He tried taking off his shoes earlier, when he was on his way to the palace, just to give them a little bit of fresh air. When he stood up, the hot ground burned his feet, making them an angry red. He tried using his magic to heal himself, but it all he could feel was a flicker of what once was his power, burning out the moment it lit up. He felt like he wanted to cry.

He wanted to splay himself out somewhere. On a cold surface. Just lie there. But he can’t, because there was no such thing. No escaping the unbearable heat, anywhere in Hell. Right now, he locked himself in his room, or chambers, as everyone likes to call it. Really, it should be called a ballroom, because that’s how big it is. He can’t even see the other side of the room without straining his neck or walking over to it.

The room is beautiful though, dark and gloomy, but beautiful. Especially if you consider the fact that it’s a room in the middle of Hell, on the top floor of the 24-storey high palace, overlooking everything in Hell. The inside of the room looks like it’s cast in a burgundy, almost rusty red, and everywhere he looks, there’s something majestic to look at. A statue of a phoenix in the corner, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling with scary looking, undefined figures on it, old books worn down by the heat, stacked in bookcases that reach the meters high ceiling on the left wall of the room. A lot of paintings, probably collected by the other Kings. There’s even a big majestic throne in the room, covered in diamonds and spikes, gargoyles looming on top of it, taking up a lot of space, and Lucas rolls his eyes at it. It’s all a bit pretentious, almost too demanding for Lucas’ taste, but it has to do for now. He can always change it later. Right now, he’s too burned out by the heat and the fight to think about stuff like that.

Everything’s turning into shit. Eliott doesn’t recognize him, he’s beaten up so badly, he can’t even move without feeling the ache in his bones and skin. On top of that, his grace is almost completely gone, since he used almost all of it for the fight and afterwards to get the spiders’ venom out of his system, and he needs what was left of it in order to keep his shield intact.

Imane had given him some holy water right before he went to look for the gate. She said it was important for him to perform a ritual with it every night, more specifically: every 24 hours. Combined with the little bit of grace he still has, he would be able to stay under the radar, to make sure the others wouldn’t know he was an angel. Besides that, it was also a way to keep what was left of his powers intact, to make sure they wouldn’t burn out completely.

At least he’d defeated Charles, so using almost all of his power hadn’t been for nothing. But him being a King also meant that he has responsibilities now, has to take care of things, boss others around.

Most of all: boss Eliott around.

He doesn’t know if he has it in him to do that. Especially since he knows how much Eliott hates when that happens, when someone tells him what he needs to do. Or at least, used to hate it. Lucas is not so sure about that anymore. Not sure about anything, if he’s honest with himself.

All he wants to do right now is take a long, cold shower. Because of Eliott, he fell in love with showering. He didn’t know those existed before he came down to Earth. Never even thought about taking a shower, never needing one in Heaven anyway. But ever since he’s used one, he just loves the feeling of water sliding down his skin, loves how he could close his eyes and let the water relax him. Loved how it felt when Eliott’s pressed up against him, washing his skin, touching him everywhere, even though he didn’t need to be washed. He knows Eliott loved it too, loved washing him, taking care of him, loved how his shampoo made Lucas smell like he was his. And he was. Lucas was 100% Eliott’s to love.

A knock on his door pulls him out of his thoughts and he can’t help but shout out an angry “what?” to the person behind it. He wants to yell more, make sure they don’t disturb him, but when he sees Eliott's head poking in through the opening, he sits up straight and signals him to talk. His heart’s beating fast, not sure what he could expect.

“Your highness,” he starts with a mocking tone, not even bowing, and Lucas has to suppress a grin. If he would’ve been any other King, Eliott would be so screwed right now, but Lucas doesn’t have it in himself to be annoyed by his behavior. In fact, he finds it almost endearing how much Eliott doesn’t want to be his second in command. If not a little irritating, because he wants to keep him as close to him as possible. Or rather, he wants to be as close to Eliott as possible, doesn’t ever want to lose sight of him again.

He can still recall the feeling of utter despair, hopelessness, panic, when he figured out Eliott wasn’t in the supermarket anymore. When he couldn’t find him anywhere. He wasn’t at La Petite Ceinture, he wasn’t at home, he wasn’t in the art studio. Even Polaris had seemed anxious and confused, meowing the whole time Lucas was looking for Eliott.

“There’s someone in the throne room to talk to you”

Lucas is pulled out of his thoughts again and looks up at Eliott. He’s here now, no need to think about what happened. He takes a deep breath and looks at Eliott with, what he hopes is, a look of determination, irritation, but also some sort of comfort. He wants to let Eliott know that he’s safe here.

“Someone, who?”

“I have no idea, some guard told me to tell you. They just wanted to talk to you, so.” Eliott seems unbothered by it all, even shrugs a little after the last word, staring Lucas straight in the eyes, not caring about the power dynamics in the room.

“Tell them to wait, I’ll be there when I’m ready.” Lucas sighs. He doesn’t want to deal with other creatures today. Especially not when he’s just retired to his room, seeking some peace and quiet after everything that’s been going on. No one is allowed to come in. Except for Eliott. He’s made that very clear. Eliott is the only one who’s given permission to interrupt him when he’s in his room. The only one who can deliver messages.

Eliott nods and leaves the room, leaving Lucas alone again.

Lucas really wants to call him back, to make him stay, talk to him. He feels the loss the moment the door closes. It’s so hard to see Eliott here. He knows the man he fell in love with is somewhere inside of him, but something is blocking him out. Someone must’ve done something to him so he’d forget everything. And it hurts. It hurts that Eliott probably forgot everything they went through, everything they were together. It hurts even more to think about the fact that it probably wasn’t Eliott’s choice to begin with. Because he would never do that. He would never give up his memories, not if he had a choice.

With all of the strength he possesses he gets up from the bed and walks to the throne room. He can feel the guards behind him, watching him every move. Even though he’s the King now, he feels how suspicious everyone is, how on edge. He hasn’t made any rules yet, it’s only his first day as King after all, but it feels like everyone already wants him to fail, wants him to give up the power he now has as King. They may fear him, in some ways, but they don’t respect hi, at least not yet. He can’t really blame them though, he wouldn’t trust him either if he’d seen what he’s capable of.

The first thing he sees when he’s entering the throne room is Eliott sitting next to his throne. He’s kneeling down, head bowed down too, totally submissive. Lucas feels his heart ache. He doesn’t want this for him. But he has to play his part, just like Lucas has to do right now. He makes sure he doesn’t acknowledge Eliott in front of everyone else, until he needs him for something. That’s how it worked with Charles, that’s what every demon in Hell knows. So that’s what he’ll do. Until he establishes some new rules.

The next thing he sees is some creature kneeled down in front of his throne, head bowed, eyes on the floor, not looking anywhere else until Lucas is seated. He immediately recognizes her: Ingrid. The demon who poisoned him, attacked him with her insects and almost beat him in battle. He can’t help but feel disgusted at the sight of her and he feels a shiver run through his body at the thought of those insects crawling up his body just the day before.

Once he’s at his throne, he sits and looks her in the eyes.

“What do you want?”

He’s tired of pretending, already. He can’t pretend to care about these demons, doesn’t want to have to care about what they’re doing. Especially not her. Doesn’t want to be the King, doesn’t want to make decisions for a place he wants to get out of as soon as possible, a place he’s grown to hate from the stories his leader in Heaven told him.

“I came here to offer you my respects, my King.”

Her voice sounds slimy, fake and strained, like it’s taking all of her willpower to say the words, to make them sound genuine, even though it’s not working. He knows this isn’t what she came here to do, he knows there has to be something else, but he’s willing to listen. If only for the reason that he doesn’t want her to cause any trouble.

He keeps looking at her, not willing to be the first one to back down from the eye contact, even though he hates looking into her green, almost venomous eyes. Hates the feelings he gets from looking at the spiders crawling all around her. They are restless, crawling everywhere, probably indicating how Ingrid must feel.

“You fought well in battle and I wounded you, I poisoned you and left you with the venom. And then I fled, like the coward I am. I don’t deserve to be in this room, let alone to have your attention, but I wanted to offer you something.”

She pauses her speech, probably to make it more dramatic, but all it does is irritate Lucas. He sees a small smirk across her lips, indicating how much she doesn’t mean her words, how staged all of this is. He almost rolls his eyes, but he keeps quiet, keeps looking at her.

“Let me be part of your guard, let me protect you. You know I can. My lovelies here,” she pets one of the spiders on the head. “can spy for you. They can tell me what other demons are saying about you, what the guards are saying, even what those filthy creatures in the deepest parts of Hell are saying. They will report back to me, and I will report back to you.”

She’s still smirking, more so because she can probably see that she just became interesting. Lucas has to think about it though. He doesn’t trust her, but it would be useful to know what others are saying about him.

“I’ll think about it. Now leave,” is all he says to her, before dismissing her with a wave of his hand. Not caring where the guards take her.

The moment she’s out of the room, he dismisses everyone else, except for Eliott.

“What do you think? You’ve been here longer than I have, should I trust her?”

Eliott seems surprised at the question, but quickly covers it with his neutral, bored, unimpressed expression. Lucas stares at him for a second, any longer and it would be too much. He would totally give himself and his feelings away if he kept staring at Eliott like that, like he means everything in the world to Lucas. He shakes himself out of it and waits for Eliott to talk.

“You should definitely hire her. She’s great you know. With her spiders and bugs. A real crowd pleaser.”

Eliott looks so done and mocking that Lucas wants to snort. He doesn’t though. He really wants Eliott's opinion on this, even when Eliott doesn’t believe it matters.

“I know you don’t like me right now, and you probably hate me for being here, for the fact that I’m going to change things around here, for not giving any reason as to why I even wanted to defeat Charles or why I wanted you as my second in command, but here I am. And I really want to know what you think about Ingrid.”

Lucas knows it’s probably too much to spill all of this after being King for one day, but he can’t help it. He really wants Eliott to trust him and to open up to him like he did before, on earth, when everything was still okay, and they would just enjoy being together and talking about everything.

“Why do you care about what I think? You don’t know me, you don’t even care about me. You only want me as your puppet, make me do things I don’t want to do, just like he did.”

Eliott sounds pissed, but also sad, sort of defeated and Lucas is shaken by his words. He should’ve expected them though, changing from one King to another can’t be easy. What he doesn’t expect is the pain he feels when Eliott throws the words at him. Lucas cares so much about him and would never use him as a puppet. Can’t even think about it without flinching. He’s questioning everything that happened since Eliott was taken from earth. It looks like Eliott has been through so much and Lucas just wants to take his pain away, makes it a bit easier for him. But he can’t. He has to play his part, even though it hurts him to say the next words.

“You’re right. I don’t care about you,” He closes his eyes for a second, making sure his feelings aren’t portrayed in his eyes for Eliott to read. He takes a deep breath before he continues. “I just want to know what you think about her. I have to assemble a tight group of demons around me, who work for me and me alone. So, I’m asking you: Do you think I should trust Ingrid?”

He does look at Eliott after asking the question and it looks like he’s searching for something in Lucas’ eyes. Maybe some confirmation or ulterior motive, eyes bouncing from one eye to another, but he remains suspicious.

“You could ask one of the guards. They’ve been with Charles way longer than I have. They knew about the other creatures from the moment they stepped foot in Hell, when they were still human. I only learn about them when they start trouble and have to justify themselves for the King,” Eliott fires back, lifting an eyebrow.

He knows he’s right, Lucas knows he’s right and yet he has to convince Eliott that it’s his opinion that matters, not someone else’s. Which is hard, because to Eliott, Lucas is a stranger, but to Lucas, Eliott is his life, the reason he’s here. Eliott is the only one Lucas trusts, even when the other doesn’t seem to recognize him or even wants to talk to him.

“You’re right, that would be the logical thing to do, ask one of them. But I don’t trust them. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem mind-controlled by Charles, you looked like you wanted to kill him yourself when he was fighting me. I know you wanted me to defeat him. I saw the way you controlled your powers - helping me. Everyone else just seems scared of him. Which means they won’t be sincere about what others are doing. Even with Charles gone and me being their new King, they don’t trust me. They are still serving Charles. You, on the other hand, seem like you still hate Charles, hate what he did to you. That’s why I’m asking you and no one else. You seem like you can read people, or creatures in this case, pretty well. Like you know what they’re up to. So I’m asking you one last time: should I trust her or not?”

Lucas heart is pounding. He’s never spoken to Eliott like this, never demanded an answer, and here he is. He doesn’t like doing it, doesn’t want to see the glimmer of fear in Eliott's eyes, but he has no choice. He has to make sure Eliott is on his side and that he wants to be honest with him.

Eliott searches his eyes again, and this times it seems like he finds what he’s looking for, because he sighs, breaking eye contact and then starts to talk himself.

“I don’t think you should trust her. But she would be a great asset to keep around. At least for now. Make her think she’s redeeming herself, but keep an eye out for what she’s saying. She’s not trustworthy, but she could be useful.” He shrugs after saying it, like he still doesn’t really care, but Lucas is so grateful for his honesty.

“Thank you for being honest, I’ll think about it.”

With that, Lucas stands up and leaves the room. He wants to look back so bad, tell Eliott to come with him so they can talk and just forget about all this, but he can’t. It’s too soon, at least for Eliott, because for Lucas it feels long overdue. It’s all he can think about. For now he has to hang on to the fact that Eliott opened up at least a little bit to him today, and he’ll take that over Eliott shutting him out, every time.

* * *

It’s been a few days since the fight, a few days since Lucas has become King. Every day has been pretty much the same. Lucas healing in his room, wanting to invite Eliott in, but not doing it. It’s still so painful to see him here, in Hell. Not acting the way Lucas has come to know from him on Earth. Not being as happy and smiley as he used to be. It’s also about him not trusting himself with his emotions, especially around Eliott, not while he’s still healing. Because he really wants Eliott to lay down next to him and hold him until he feels better. He’s afraid his resolve will crack if they spend too much time together, so he’s avoiding him as much as he can.

So for now he’s not talking to him at all, unless he really needs something or Eliott knocks on the door again, saying there’s yet another creature who wants to redeem themselves, thinking they are the ones who are worthy of the King’s trust.

It always ends with him asking Eliott for advice, telling Eliott he’ll think about it and then asking Eliott to leave. He still hasn’t set the new rules in Hell, because he doesn’t know what he wants to do, how he wants to rule Hell. He doesn’t even want to rule Hell. He only wants to get Eliott out of there as soon as possible. But Imane told him only the King can harness enough power to cast the spell to rescue a soul from Hell.

Yet another day, yet another knock on the door. After Lucas hums to indicate Eliott can come in, he’s preparing for yet another “there’s someone here to see you”, but it doesn’t come. Lucas looks up and sees Eliott staring at him.

“What? What’s going on now?” He knows he sounds irritated, but he can’t help himself. Even though he’s getting used to the heat, it’s still too much, too hot, too burning. If only he could turn the heat off, that would be a great first act as King. But of course, he can’t do that. He can control the elements, sure, but not this heat.

“Everyone is getting restless, they’re all gathered in the throne room, because they want to know when you’re going to announce the new rules and tell everyone their position in Hell. They don’t know what to do with themselves at this point.”

Well, that makes a lot of them then, since Lucas feels the same.

Eliott is just standing there, looking at Lucas with a weird expression. It’s a mix between maybe a bit sympathetic and annoyed, almost irritated, but also challenging. Like he wants to know the same things as the others, but somehow knows how hard it is on Lucas. Or it’s just Lucas projecting his own feelings onto Eliott.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go downstairs and talk to them.”

Lucas gets up with a sigh, walks to the door and indicates for Eliott to follow him. They both walk downstairs, taking the long road. He doesn’t even care about the glances the guards are throwing them when they take the stairs instead of the elevator. He just needs some time to think about what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do. So, he’ll take all the time he can get, even if that means he has to walk down hundreds of stairs in this scorching heat.

It does feel good to have Eliott at his side again, even if it’s just them walking in silence with the guards behind them.

When they enter the throne room, everyone falls silent. It’s not usual for a King to walk in through the normal doors instead of the secret door behind the throne, especially not with his second in command right next to him. Everyone in the room stares at them; confusion, irritation and also disgust clear on their faces. Lucas acts like he doesn’t notice, like it doesn’t bother him, but it does. He fears it’s going to put him in a disadvantage, will make it even harder for him to rule Hell.

Once he’s settled on the throne, he looks around the room, at the creatures in front of him. He sees some full-on Demons, some Demons who are still a bit human and a lot of other creatures he can’t describe, at least not at this moment. He feels so uneasy, all of them staring at him. Everything in him screams for him to leave, to get out of this literal Hell hole and get away from the Demons. He’s been taught that Demons are bad and should be defeated every change he got, and here he is. Sitting in front of them, talking to them, ruling over them, being their King. He doesn’t even want to look at them anymore. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth and all he wants to do is go. But, since Eliott is also here, he knows there might be a chance that some of the creatures don’t deserve to be here as well. He just has to deal with all of them for now and try to figure out who is and isn’t here for the right reasons, as right as those reasons can be in hell. Everyone is still staring at him and he knows he has to speak.

“Thank you all for your patience. I know almost all of you don’t want me to be your King. You’re all used to Charles and how he used to do things around here. But that’s about to change.”

Lucas takes a deep breath and looks around again. Everyone seems restless now, whispering to each other, trying to guess what he’s going to announce.

“I’ve had a few propositions from different creatures in the past few days. I won’t tell you who they are or what they were about, because that’s between me and them. What I will tell you, however, is that I won’t make a decision about what I’m going to do with them until I’ve had a tour around the castle. I want to make sure everyone is treated the way they should be treated, according to the crimes they’ve committed. Either during their time on earth or during their time here, nothing more, nothing less.”

More whispers, more surprised noises, but also creatures who look at him in shock. Like they can’t really believe someone would do that.

“As for my second in command,” He gives Eliott a little smile, looking down at him. He can’t help himself. Has to reassure him that it’s going to be fine. “he’ll have the same power over all of you as I do, which is only the power provided by the book of law. I will go through the book, see how I feel about the rules and change them if I feel like they don’t match with the way I want to do things around here. That said: each and every one of you is their own creature with their own needs and wishes, but also with their own crimes. You are all here for a reason and I won’t forget that. But, I won’t be the one to tell you what’s fine and what’s not. I’m here to keep things in order, to make sure everyone is doing their assigned job and doesn’t cause trouble. And when they do, I’m here to make sure they get a punishment that’s fitting for their deeds.”

Lucas can’t even continue talking, because the room bursts out in creatures talking over each other, with each other, screaming things at Lucas. He knew something like this would happen, but he also knows that this is the only way he’s going to be King. He doesn’t have it in him to command others what to do. He can’t punish them without knowing the rules. Can’t command others to do things on a whim, when he still has to make sure the rules are fair and everyone knows them. He still doesn’t really know how it will all work out, but for now it doesn’t matter. Lucas stands up from his throne and the room falls silent again.

“I thank you all for listening. If you have any questions or comments about what’s just been said, please refrain from asking them today. Let it all sink in, talk to each other about it. Give me some time to talk it through with Eliott, to get a tour of the palace and I will call another meeting as soon as I’m done with that. If you have any questions in the meantime, go to Eliott. He’ll write them all down and bring them to me and I’ll see what I can do to answer them in the next meeting.”

With those words Lucas walks behind the throne to the special exit, signaling for Eliott to follow him. Everyone in the room is silent until he’s gone through the door. The moment it closes, he can hear everyone shouting questions at each other, but he doesn’t care for now. He leans against the door and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, eyes closed. He just needs a second to himself. Part one is over with. On to part two, talking with Eliott.

When he opens his eyes, Eliott’s looking at him like he’s lost his mind. Like he wants to ask him thousands of questions but doesn’t know where to begin. The guards are right next to them, so Lucas doesn’t really want to talk right now.

“Let’s go to my room and we’ll talk, okay? I know you must have a lot of questions right now and I’ll try to answer them all, but not here.” Lucas is so tired. He wishes he could just go to bed, fall asleep and wake up to realize this has all been a nightmare. But he knows it isn’t, he knows it’s real. As real as Eliott standing in front of him. Eliott just nods and they step into the elevator that leads them to Lucas’ room.

Eliott keeps eyeing him the whole time they’re in the elevator and Lucas can’t help but look back at him. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks, dark circles under his eyes, light-grey shirt almost falling off his shoulders, covered in sand and dirt, too wide to be the right size. Black pants hanging low on his hips. They are ripped up at the knees and some of the seams are barely keeping the fabric together, showing the bruises on Eliott’s skin. Eliott shouldn’t be looking like that, like he got some second-hand clothing, like he’s nothing, just an afterthought. He deserves everything nice, even in Hell. Lucas has to make sure they’ll get some new clothes for Eliott, some pieces that fit him better than what he’s wearing right now.

The elevator dings, indicating the fact that they’ve reached the top floor. They are still looking at each other and Lucas shakes his head to get the thoughts out of his head. He’s the first to step out of the elevator and walks to his room. He’s signaling for the guards to keep standing outside. He doesn’t want them in his room, ever. Only Eliott.

The moment the door closes behind them, he feels the quiet surrounding them. It’s the first time Lucas knowingly invited Eliott into his room to talk. They could’ve talked everywhere, but he wanted to do it here. He looks back at Eliott with a small, almost apologetic, smile, like he’s just realizing how weird it is for them both to be inside this room.

“Please, sit anywhere you like,” he manages to say before laying down on his bed himself. It feels like he can’t stand any longer. He’s still not completely healed and walking downstairs really took a toll on his body.

Eliott chooses to sit near the bed, which is surprising. Lucas expected him to sit as far away from him as possible. Nothing had indicated the fact that Eliott even wanted to be here. It’s a good surprise though and Lucas can’t help but smile at him again, this time it’s a happy one instead of a sad one.

“Thank you for coming with me. I’m new to all this and I still don’t know what I’m doing, but having you here to talk to means a lot,” Lucas doesn’t even know why he’s being so honest and vulnerable right now, but it’s something in the way Eliott is just sitting there, looking at him like a lost, kicked puppy, that makes his heart ache. He can’t have that. He has to make sure Eliott feels safe.

“Sure, it’s not like I have anything better to do and you do owe me some answers,” Eliott shrugs and looks away from Lucas. It looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t know how he should say it, so Lucas just waits him out.

After what feels like hours of them just staring at each other, Lucas caves. He can’t stand the silence anymore and it’s clear that Eliott isn’t going to talk anytime soon, so it has to be him.

“Why don’t we start off with me explaining some things. I really don’t want to be a King who bosses others around and makes them feel like they don’t have a purpose. Even though this is Hell, it shouldn’t be a place where others feel like they don’t belong. And the most important thing to make sure that doesn’t happen is us being on the same page. I would really like for us to talk things through. If you don’t agree with something I’m doing, please come to me and I can explain why I did it or we can talk about how you would do it. I really do value your opinion and since you’ve been here longer than I have, you know more about this place.”

Too much, it’s too much. Lucas sees it in the way Eliott closes off again. In the way he stands up and starts walking around the room, thinking about everything Lucas just said. He lets him, let Eliott take all the time he needs, because it’s important Eliott wants it too.

“Okay, fine,” Eliott turns around sharply, looking him straight in the eyes, challenge in his own eyes. “I’ll be your whatever you want to call it. But I won’t torture people or tell them what they can and can’t do. It’s not me. I let you deal with that, or your guards or fighters or who ever you seem fit for it, but I won’t do it.”

“I would never ask you to do that anyway, I know you, I know you don’t like tortu-,” Shit, too much - again. Lucas isn’t supposed to know Eliott, Eliott isn’t supposed to know Lucas knows him, and here he is, speaking before thinking, again. He looks at Eliott who has a shocked and questioning expression on his face and backtracks as fast as he can. “I mean. From what you’ve told me and how I’ve seen you acting around others, I assumed you don’t like torturing others. So it’s fine with me if you don’t want to do that.”

“Great.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

Lucas laughs a bit at their exchange of one worded sentences and he can’t help but wish Eliott would smile back at him, if only a little.

“As for the next part,” Lucas starts talking again. “I would really like to give you some other clothes. It looks like these are just hand-me-downs and I don’t want that for you.”

He sees Eliott's expression change, fast as lightning, closing off again and Lucas doesn’t know what to expect.

“Are you serious? You want to change me already. You just held this big ass speech about not wanting people to feel unsafe and boss them around and the first thing you do is tell me I need different clothes.”

Eliott looks pissed and Lucas doesn’t really know what he’s done.

“I don’t need your stupid clothes, your protection or your pity,” It’s never been about pity, Lucas thinks, but he can’t form words, so he just stares at him. He just wants to give Eliott what he deserves, wants to show him how much he’s loved, even when Lucas can’t say it right now or show it in the way he wants to.

“You don’t need to look after me like I’m some kind of charity case, like I need to be taken care off. All those years with Charles as a King, I was fine. I’ve been fine for a long time. I don’t need you stepping up for me now. It’s only making things worse. Others already look at me strangely, because of the way you’re treating me.”

“Eliott, I-“

“I’m not done. I would really appreciate it if you just don’t talk to me anymore, unless you need things from me as your second in command. You’re still my King and I will serve you. I will meet all of your demands and I will let you know when others have questions, but that’s it.”

With those words Eliott storms off, out of the chambers, possibly out of the castle. Lucas almost wants to run after him, but he’s floored with everything Eliott said. He doesn’t know what to do. It feels like his heart is breaking again.

* * *

Lucas hasn’t seen Eliott in a day and he really misses him, even though he knows he shouldn’t. That it’s probably for the best that they’re not talking. But he can’t stand it, can’t stand to be apart from him, even if being near him hurts just as much. He sighs and decides to do something about it. Time for that tour around the castle he’s been speaking of. It’s a reason for Eliott to come with him, for them to spend time together, even though they’re not really on speaking terms right now.

He tells the guard outside of his room to find someone who can give the tour and to get Eliott and send them both to the throne room to meet him there. Lucas takes his time preparing himself. It feels like he needs to make a first impression on Eliott again, make things right, ‘cause right now, everything just feels wrong.

There’s a knock on the door and Lucas opens it. Eliott is looking at him, totally unimpressed and ready to slap him, dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I told you I don’t want to do anything with you. Only if you really need me for Hell business,” Lucas feels his stomach drop, but he stands his ground.

“This is Hell business. I need you with me to show me around. There will be someone to guide me, but I need someone else there, just in case. I want to know what you think about the places.” Again, here he goes with the big confessions. This is what he’s been afraid off. That every time he meets with Eliott, he’s going to confess something, until one time he just blurts out how he knows him and how much he means to him and loves him. He just can’t help it.

“So, you’re coming with me and the guide,” he demands, “I don’t care who he or she is, but that way we won’t be alone and you won’t have a chance to murder me.” Lucas is going for humor now, even though it only makes Eliott look more murderous. Not even a glimmer of humor is left in his eyes and Lucas swallows away the lump in his throat.

“Fine.”

That’s all Eliott says before he walks away, pushes the elevator’s button and steps inside. He’s not even waiting for Lucas, but that’s okay. At least there’s a second elevator, so Lucas won’t have to wait for the first one to come back up. He steps into the second one and goes downstairs.

He meets up with Eliott, the guard and someone else in the throne room. They’re all standing next to the throne, the unknown man looking at Lucas with a smirk on his face. Probably mocking him for everything he’s doing as a King. Lucas doesn’t even care.

Lucas signals for his guard to introduce the other man in the room and he introduces him as Jonas, the man who will lead him around all parts of Hell. The smirk is still on his face and it’s getting on Lucas’ nerves. It better be gone soon or he will commit his first act as true King of Hell and slap this man.

“Your highness, my King of Hell, our savior from Charles, I salute you.” He bows with so much flare that Lucas is afraid he’s going to fall over. “Welcome to this beautiful place called Hell. I’m proud to be able to show you around my home, full of splendid creatures and places. I will show you everything there is to learn about this place. Some truly wonderful spots, but also some hideous ones where even a King should never want to come. Follow me and I will explain everything.” The man, Jonas, indicates for Lucas and Eliott to lead the way.

Lucas is still a bit suspicious, but at least Eliott is there too, making it a bit more bearable.

“You’re our guide, so guide us,” It comes out harsher than he wants it too, but that’s probably for the best, since he doesn’t want to seem too nice. It’s still a battle every time it happens, because he doesn’t want to be mean, but he has to be controlling and the Angels taught him how to do that, so he’s tapping into that energy, even though it’s been a long time since he’s done it.

The first time they stop, it’s in front of a wide, matte black door. Two creatures, pale faced with horns in their hair, come up to them and introduce themselves as Basile and Arthur.

“Welcome to our humble abode, your Highness,” They both say at the same time, like they’ve been practicing. They bow, but go inside again right after, motioning for them to follow. Lucas suppresses a laugh. There’s something about them that makes him want to laugh and befriend them.

He enters a room full of colors and sounds. Red, blue, black, yellow, orange, purple, white - too bright for a place in Hell, but somehow still fitting. It’s almost like he stepped into a disco ball, beams shining everywhere, at odd times, sometimes really fast, like a stroboscope, sometimes with 10 seconds in between. All kind of sounds coming from everywhere, heavy bass radiating through his chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. Everywhere he looks, there’s another color, another sound, another sensation, it’s way too much.

On his left side some creatures are relaxing in a corner, talking to each other, somehow they’re still able to understand each other over the loud music in the room. At the back of the room he sees a crowd standing in a circle, cheering about whatever is going on inside of it. He can’t see what’s happening, but it’s probably a fight of some sort. At his right side there’s a bar. It’s big and obnoxious, but it fits so well that Lucas isn’t even surprised it’s there. The bar is made out of a thick, dark, shiny wood, reflecting the black lights from above, making it even darker.

They walk to a more secluded part of the room, thankfully the music is a bit more dampened around here, so they can understand each other while they talk.

“As you can see, this is the place where the magic happens. Creatures come here to relax, train for fights, have real fights with each other, but also to drink whenever they want. No one is here to judge them anyways, so why not make the most of it and do whatever they like, right?” One of the creatures, he thinks it’s Arthur, says.

“They also come here to gamble. Right now there’s a bet going on about how long you’ll be King,” Basile explains and Arthur kicks him in the ribs with his elbow, giving him a death glare. Lucas does smile a little this time, but covers it up with a cough. They are ridiculous, but they seem to have a nice friendship going on and Lucas has to make sure to come back here again, if only to get some information out of them about others.

He looks up at Eliott and sees some interest flicker across his face, but it’s gone just as fast, so Lucas isn’t sure if it was even there to begin with.

He thanks Basile and Arthur for explaining things to him about the room and they leave to go to the next part of Hell.

* * *

After what feels like hours of walking through different parts of Hell, with Jonas talking their ears off about everything that’s going on everywhere, seeing all sorts of creatures staring at them from the corners of the halls, they stop in front of another door.

“This is the weapon room, our very pretty Head-Demon of Weaponry Lucille can tell you all about it,” Jonas says. Lucas feels Eliott stiffen when Jonas mentions her, but besides giving him a questioning look, he can’t really do anything about that now. He will have to ask Eliott about it later though. When - if he gets a chance.

Jonas knocks on the door and a beautiful Demon opens it. Eyes as dark as the night, jumping from Lucas to Eliott and back, lips as purple as crushed lavender blossoms, curled into a tight, knowing smile. Lucas can’t help but look at Eliott again and all he sees is shock, but also recognition and something resembling fear.

“My King,” She curtsies a little, eyes never leaving Lucas and he’s starting to feel uneasy. “Come in and I’ll show you around. I’m sure Jonas told you this is a weapon room, but it’s so much more than that. It’s also the place where we keep every document about every creature that’s ever entered Hell. Their past, present and what will probably be their future. When it’s their time to become a full Demon, if it will ever happen or if we decide to kill them off. It’s all stored in here, protected by the only Demon one could trust with the cause: Me.”

It sends a chill down Lucas’ spine, to think about the fact that every detail about everyone is in one room, protected only by Lucille. It shouldn’t be like that. It shouldn’t all be on one person. He makes a mental note to do something about it.

Lucille steps out of the doorway to let them in. The first thing he notices is how big the space is. It’s like a training center of some sorts. There are creatures swinging around swords, trying them out, others are throwing knives into a dartboard, Lucas assumes to practice their aim.

It’s the complete opposite of the training room he’s used to in Heaven. Everything there had been regulated and safe. The spots had been barricaded with heavy glass walls around them, so everyone could see what was happening, but they wouldn’t be able to hurt each other, in case something went wrong. This place is not like that at all. Every creature is doing their own thing. It doesn’t seem to matter where they are in the room, if they can possible hurt others or get hurt by others, they’re just there for themselves. Some of them might even be there to get hurt. Lucas is baffled.

“Here we have the training spots. Everyone is free to come in whenever and do whatever they want. They can use weapons that we’ve stored here, or they can bring their own” She looks kind of bored when she’s explaining how it works. Like she really doesn’t care.

“Can you show me the file room now?”

As they walk across the room, they have to duck a few times to not get hit by a sword or a flying knife. It really is a dangerous place. Once they reach the other side, Lucille leads them into another room. Surprisingly enough, this room is as organized as it can get.

Big, brown, majestic bookcases are filling up all four walls, floor to ceiling, filled with hundreds upon hundreds of folders. Lucas tries to figure out how they are organized, but he can’t seem to find any logic behind it.

“And this is my domain. Everyone who first enters Hell gets a new folder, automatically filled with all the background information about that creature. Except for you.” She looks at Lucas like she wants to rip him open so she can get her hands on every dirty detail there is to know about him. “When you entered, nothing showed up. Not one little detail about your past was brought to me.”

Lucas looks over to Eliott and sees a surprised look on his face. This time he’s not covering it up as he stares back at Lucas, blinking once, before looking away again. Imane’s spell must’ve protected Lucas from getting a file. He really wants to ask Lucille about Eliott's file, where it is, who’s keeping track of it, but he can’t. At least not now.

“We update every file constantly. Everything creatures do is being tracked and added to the files. Especially about your boytoy here. He’s a really interesting case." There’s an evil glint in her eyes as she looks over to Eliott and Lucas doesn’t like it, at all. He also doesn’t like the way she talks about Eliott, and he wants to bite her head off for talking about him like that.

What he likes the least, though, is the look of pure terror and distraught on Eliott's face. He looks like he’s terrified about the fact that they know everything about him, or worse, that Lucille knows everything. Which seems fair. Lucas wouldn’t want that either. He almost reaches out to comfort him, but he holds back just in time. He can’t do that here, in Hell, let alone in this room with all the others staring at him.

“Thank you, it’s highly appreciated that you keep the files up to date,” Lucas does his best to sound sincere, even though all he wants to do is find Eliott's file and rip it to shreds. Or read it, to know what Eliott's been going through, he doesn’t know which one he wants more. But Lucille mentioned something about it being centuries since Eliott's been here, so Lucas is curious. Especially since it had only been a couple of days on earth between Eliott's disappearance and Lucas entering Hell. That might explain a lot about the way Eliott is acting right now, like he doesn’t remember Lucas at all. He feels his heart ache and has to look down instead of at Eliott or Lucille, afraid his eyes will show the heartbreak in them.

“I would also highly appreciate it if you would address my second in command as Eliott, without the name calling. I don’t care about whatever history you two have, you will treat him with re-”

“That will be all for this part of the tour,” Jonas interrupts his words towards Lucille, clapping his hands once, and everyone in the room looks shocked. Jonas doesn’t seem to care though, as he just continues talking. “We have a lot more to see, so come on, let’s go, the clock is ticking, I have some Demons to train, some creatures to kill, so chop-chop.”

All of a sudden Lucas is totally done with the tour. He wants to go back to his room and think about everything he’s learned so far. But he knows if he doesn’t continue now, he never will, so he gives Lucille one last look, hopefully making his message clear, before he’s following Eliott and Jonas, back through the training room and into the stretched out hallways of the palace again.

* * *

They’ve only just started walking again when they stop in front of a gate on their left. It’s covered in locks, making it impossible to see through. Lucas has to suppress a shiver at the ominous vibe it gives off. Jonas turns around and looks scared.

“The hallway behind these gates lead to a place no one wants to go to,” Jonas starts, looking Lucas straight in the eyes. “it leads to the deepest parts of Hell, the parts where the worst of the worst creatures end up. I know, I know, every creature in Hell is supposed to be bad and has done bad things, that’s the whole point of them being here in the first place. But the ones who end up in the prison behind this door, make your worst nightmare seem like a happy dream. It would take days, if not weeks, to reach the ending of the hall and find the prisons they are locked up in. Creatures who end up here will never come out.”

He looks so frightened and like he wants to move on as fast as he can and Lucas can’t help but wonder what kind of creatures are locked up down there. He’s not really keen on finding that out anytime soon though.

They leave the gate and turn right, taking the stairs all the way down to the basement. When he looks over at Eliott, he sees him rolling his eyes and hears an annoyed sigh. He can’t help but smile a little, encouraging him to keep walking. Eliott rolls his eyes even more at that and they break eye contact.

“My great King, Lord of the Underworld, I welcome you into the prisons of Hell.” Jonas stops in front of a heavily guarded door, signaling to the guards to let them through. “Down here you’ll find creatures who’ve spoken ill about past Kings or who broke the rules. Watch out for some of them, they will try to manipulate you into letting them out, claim they’ve never said anything about past Kings and they will certainly not say anything about you or done anything as bad as what they’re locked up for. But I assure you they have and they will. So don’t let yourself be fooled.”

The moment they step through the door, Lucas gets overwhelmed by the screams and shouts. Everyone wants to get his attention. Wants to make themselves known. He can’t even hear himself think as they step into a hallway. Both sides of the hall covered with only the bars from the cell blocks. Covered in mold and looking like they’re barely able to hold the prisoners in. He can see every single one of the creatures that are locked up here, standing in their cells, banging on the walls and bars, making even more noise.

“My King!” somehow one voice echoes through the hall, and Lucas automatically steps back, grabbing Eliott’s hand to find some comfort and letting it go just as soon. He looks up at Eliott for a second, before shifting his eyes to the creature that’s coming up to him, dragging something else behind him. Something that’s screaming in agony. Lucas doesn’t even want to know what, or who, it is but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

“Look what I brought you!”

The creature looks proud, shoving the barely alive figure in front of him and when Lucas looks over at Jonas and Eliott, they’re both just as surprised as he is. Jonas does look a little pleased and impressed though, small smile tugging at his lips and Lucas fights the urge to punch him. “This creature has been speaking ill of you and I want you to know that I’ll be the one to torture him. I will break him until there’s nothing left of him. Until my timer runs out and I’m a full Demon. I’m close. I know it. Look! There’s barely any sand left, just two more grains and I will finally be a real Demon, I will finally be able to really torture others, without getting hindered by any stupid emotions.”

He’s showing Lucas something around his neck. It looks like an hourglass. The grains of sand inside are almost non-existent, clearly he’s running out of time and Lucas looks over at Jonas, waiting for an explanation.

“Everyone in Hell has an hourglass, or a so called timer,” Jonas starts, still looking at the creature in front of them. “it’s filled with powerful, magic sand, taken from the ground the creature last stood upon on earth. The sand indicates how long it will take for that creature to become a real Demon. Some days one could lose ten grains of sand in one second, the next day it could be just one. It all depends on how bad their actions are that day. Like I said, everyone has one, but it only shows up when you’re close to becoming a demon. That’s when you know your time is up.”

Lucas can’t help but look at Eliott. Does he know about the timers? Did he manage to find his own? Is he close to finding it? To becoming a full Demon? Lucas can’t believe he is close, whenever he’s looking at Eliott, he still sees some good emotions, not the emotions the creature in front of him is showing.

By the look on Eliott face, he doesn’t know about the timers and is just as surprised as Lucas is. Suddenly, he remembers something Imane said. She was talking about finding some ingredients in order to make a spell so he can save Eliott and bring him back to earth. But most importantly, she was talking about finding something that connects to both Eliott's soul and Hell itself. That object would be the key to make the spell work. Could it be the hourglass? Could that be the thing that’s going to at least give him a chance to save Eliott? Or would it already be too late by the time they find it? Does Eliott know what the timer could mean? They have to find it. Lucas has to know how much time they have left till Eliott's timer runs out of sand.

“Bla, bla, bla, boring,” The creature interrupts Lucas’ thoughts. “Follow me, I’ll show you how it’s really done. I’ll show you how I will become a Demon. I’ll torture him like you’ve never seen before. Until there’s nothing left of him. Until my timer is empty.” He grins and starts to walk towards the far end of the hall.

It’s not like there’s much left of the figure now, Lucas wants to say, but he can’t. All he sees is an almost dead figure laying on the floor, no clothes left on his body, blood dripping out of all his wounds, nothing left of his skin but flesh hanging loose and scrapes everywhere. He only nods, trying to swallow the lump in his throat and when the creature mentions for them to follow him, they do. Lucas doesn’t even know why, because all he wants to do is get out of there, but he knows he needs to see this. Needs to see what Hell is really like. Needs to see where the torturing happens, even though he really, really doesn’t want to see it.

Lucas can’t help but look at Eliott again. What will Hell do to him when he’s reached the end of his timer? Will Eliott be like this creature? Torturing others? Making them pay for what they supposedly have done? What will Hell do to Lucas? Will he become a Demon too? Or will Imane’s magic be enough to protect him until he gets out? He can’t let the uncertainty get in the way of his mission. They have to find Eliott’s timer, now. Have to find a way to make it out of Hell in time.

Lucas just wants to get his Eliott back. See him smile like the sun again, enjoy every single moment together.

Take him back home.


End file.
